


soft breath, beating heart, as i whisper in your ear, i wanna tear you apart

by staubfingers



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Crack, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Pegging, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24769837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staubfingers/pseuds/staubfingers
Summary: Even though Denver and her didn't talk about it, didn't need to, really, she takes Rio's hand into her own when the time for departure comes and sees the look of surprise and relief on his face. They end up in a beautiful house in South Africa, and when she enters it for the first time she nearly feels like everything will be okay. Of course, it isn't that easy.AKA: Unrelated one shots, including a variety of themes and (mainly uncommon) pairings. Tags will be added along the way.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Nairobi | Ágata Jiménez, Denver | Daniel Ramos/Mónica Gaztambide/Rio | Aníbal Cortés, Nairobi | Ágata Jiménez/Professor | Sergio Marquina, Palermo | Martín Berrote/Professor | Sergio Marquina, Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina, Rio | Aníbal Cortés/Alicia Sierra, Rio | Aníbal Cortés/Tokyo | Silene Oliveira
Comments: 64
Kudos: 79





	1. Sergio/Martín

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I saw how you looked at me,” Martín says right against his skin, and Sergio feels a wave of shame rolling through his body, “Is that why you took him from me?” There is a bite, right into his earlobe, the sting immediately soothed by another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too much time and I'm too obsessed with this show so here comes a collection of one shots with the weirdest pairings. There will be some dubious content and dark themes, and some of it will be light-hearted. I'll put a warning for each chapter into the notes and the featured pairing into the chapter title so that you can browse and skip more easily. There is not really more of a plan to it than getting all these thoughts out of my head, thus there will be updates whenever I have written something.  
> Oh, and I'm always open for suggestions, so just leave a comment here or talk to me on on [tumblr](https://staubfinger.tumblr.com).  
> Title is from _Tear You Apart_ by _She Wants Revenge_. And English is not my first language, so beware.  
>  **Pairing:** Sergio/Martín  
>  **Chapter warnings/tags:** mildy dubious consent, infidelity, not enough preparation

Deep down he knew that whatever he'll find in Palermo will be bad, but not in his darkest dreams he imagined Martín being that utterly _destroyed_. Sergio spent five minutes knocking on the door, listening to the sound of stumbling footsteps and and a body hitting various pieces of furniture, and when Martín finally does open he nearly would have got the door slammed right back into his face if it weren't for the foot he planted against it in foresight.

“Go away,” Martín says, sounding more tired than anything.

“I need your help,” Sergio states and walks into the flat, ignoring Martín's protests and weak attempts to hinder him from entering. After he shut the door he takes a closer look and is shocked by how filthy the apartment is. Every surface is cramped with empty bottles, glasses, and plates, some of them converted to ashtrays, various clothes are scattered on the floor, and a smell of dust, alcohol and coffee hangs in the air. As long as they have known each other Martín has been messy, but there always seemed to be some sort of plan behind it, this, however, is pure chaos.

“And why on earth should I help you?” Martín laughs, bitter and angry. Only now Sergio takes him fully in, sees how thin he has become, how _old_ despite the fact that merely four years have passed since their last meeting, sees the old bathrobe he recognizes, and the shirt that would be white if it weren't for the stains of multiple colours and sizes covering it.

“I want to use your plan, I want to melt gold,” Sergio says and it feels like a confession.

“Fuck you,” Martín spits out, coming closer, “You did everything to ruin my life and now you want to take that from me as well? Fuck you!”

Martín is now so close that Sergio feels his breath on his skin, surprisingly it smells like toothpaste. “I don't intent to _take it_ from you. I need your help, I won't be able to execute it without you.”

He gets another laugh in return, an ugly laugh that somehow feels worse than the insults he has expected, “Now, you want my help. After you hindered us from getting through with it in the first place, after you refused to make me a part of your stupid plan, after you _took Andrés from me_.”

He knew that he hurt Martín with his actions, they were necessary, though, not just to protect him and his brother but Martín himself, so he accepted it, didn't even think about it much until now, convinced he acted in everyone's best interested. However, the look of utter pain in Martín's eyes, so fresh like only days and not years have past, makes Sergio's throat tighten and he wonders whether it had been the right choice after all. “What happened?” he asks lowly, stupidly hoping that it wasn't his doing that _broke_ Martín.

“What happened? Andrés died! And I wasn't with him, because of _you_ ,” Martín pokes his index-finger into Sergio's chest, “Because you talked him into leaving me to go into the Mint where _he died._ You got him _killed_ and didn't even deem it necessary to call me, you had me find it out from the news.” His voice crumbles with the last word, eyes welling up with tears.

“He was sick, he had only a few months left. He stayed behind to protect the others.” _To save me and my plan._ He doesn't even know if he tries to justify it to Martín or himself.

Martín's face goes blank then, and so pale that Sergio's is afraid he'll just black out. “Since when?” It's nearly inaudible.

“He told me the night before they went into the Mint. I don't know when... I think he got the diagnose when you still lived together in the monastery.”

“Why didn't he... he said- I should've been with him! Why did he... What did you tell him?” Suddenly furious Martín takes hold of his shoulders, shakes him even though it feels feebly.

“That you were a liability,” Sergio admits and the tears are falling from Martín eyes after all, “That you were destroying each other, that you will get both of you killed if you would go into the Bank.”

“He still died,” Martín whispers, stops with the shaking and claws his fingers so much deeper into Sergio's skin. He hisses at the sharp pain, accepts it since it's probably the least that he deserves.

“It's my fault.” Not just that, he realizes as he looks at Martín's small, shaking frame.

The fingers let go of him to be replaced by arms, holding him in a desperate, too tight embrace. Sergio returns it hesitantly, feels his shirt getting wet where Martín sobs into it and tears prickling in his own eyes.

“He said he loved me, that I'm his soulmate and then he left me.” ' _It's done_ ' was the only thing Andrés has told him, lips tight and hard look in his eyes, and Sergio didn't dare to ask what he did to Martín, he wishes he still wouldn't know. “And he kissed me,” Martín continues, “He kissed my like he _meant it_ and I thought... I couldn't wrap my head around it when he left.”

Sergio feels sick, he puts his hand into Martín's hair, tries to soothe him, make him shut up. “I didn't ask him to do that. I wouldn't...” he stops, because wouldn't he? Did he really care about what Andrés did to Martín as long as they got rid of him?

“I can't forget it, can't forget him,” Martín says it like a mantra, and Sergio helplessly continues with patting his back and hair just to be thrown right off of track when a pair of lips is pressed against his jaw.

“Martín,” he protest and tries to get away, but the hands are clawing into his shoulders again, keeping him in place.

“I saw how you looked at me,” Martín says right against his skin, and Sergio feels a wave of shame hitting his body, “Is that why you took him from me?” There is a bite, right into his earlobe, the sting immediately soothed by another kiss.

“No,” he groans, unsure if it's due to the pain or the embarrassing memories. He did... wonder about Martín, what he would feel like, but it wasn't because he was attracted to him, but because Martín fuelled his mind with all those talking about blow-jobs and homosexual sex, and that he _would make it good for him_. “I wanted to protect you. All of us. From each other. This _dynamic_ , it would have imploded at some point.” He realizes he isn't trying to stop the kisses slowly but steadily making their way to his mouth any more, knows there is no logically reason to let this happen.

“Me or you? Who would have imploded?” Martín asks. They are nose to nose now, the tears are gone and his eyes are full of determination. The sudden shift feels alarming, nearly dangerous. Sergio doesn't know what to say and after they stared at each other for a few seconds, breathless, Martín begins to smirk, “Why did you never act on it? That one time I was sure you'd bend me over the sofa, just fuck me without any preparation.”

He remembers that night, years ago, long before they ever talked about melting gold. It was just the two of them, Andrés being on a vacation with the most recent wife, and they got drunk, reluctant about each other's company at first and then more and more relaxed. It had been _nice_ until they started to talk about relationships, and _sex_ , and Sergio felt entirely too hot because Martín was so _close._ Sergio got up to straddle him, was halfway there and thought better of it, left for his room instead.

There is suddenly a hand on Sergio's dick, terrified, he realizes it's painfully hard, and the grin on Martín's face grows that much wider. “From the very beginning I saw how you looked at him,” Sergio admits and somehow compelled he continues, “I knew it would be a horrible idea to _do_ anything. That Andrés... wouldn't have allowed it.” His brother had always been possessive and Sergio didn't know whom of them he would have ultimately chosen if anything went down between them. He's glad he never found out.

“He's gone,” Martín states, only revealing a hint of the sadness he showed a few minutes ago so openly. Then he leans in, presses his lips against Sergio's, starts to move the hand that still palms his dick through his jeans.

For a few seconds Sergio kisses back, forgets about everything around him, about why he's here and that he _cannot_ do this. “I can't do this,” he says, places his hands on Martín's cheeks to pull him away, “I'm in a relationship.”

“I don't care.” Sergio nearly laughs at that, but then he sees the look on Martín's face, hears the desperation in his voice, “Don't do that to me, not again.”

 _I'm not the one who kissed and left you,_ he wants to say, but it's his fault that it happened, isn't it. And he _did_ leave Martín, just like Andrés, only that he had the chance to right his wrongs and instead of grasping it he tried to forget about Martín's existences.

“Please,” Martín whispers, all the self-confidence slipping out of him as fast as it came, “I know you want me, stop denying it. Please, I need this,” he presses another kiss against Sergio's lips, “I need you, please. Do whatever you want, just touch me, but don't send me off. I can't.”

Sergio feels sick again. Sick upon seeing what his doing ultimately made out of Martín, sick because this devotion, this desperation, clouds his brain with _want_. He wonders if that is what Andrés has seen when he left Martín for good, if he saw it through all the years they've spent together. He kisses Martín back, deep and sloppy, claws on his horrible bathrobe and throws it to the floor. Raquel's face comes to his mind, he feels guilty about doing this to her, but not anywhere close to how guilty he feels about what he did to Martín. He is righting his wrongs, he tells himself, and helps Martín unbuttoning his shirt.

Martín moans into his mouth when their upper bodies are finally bare and pressed against one another, and Sergio hands stroke the naked skin of his back. Surprised, he realizes that Martín feels and smells clean like he just got out of the shower despite the sleazy state of his clothing, and he's weirdly relieved about it. “Fuck me, please, please,” Martín groans when Sergio's hands cups his ass, sounding more close to tears than turned on and a voice in the back of Sergio's mind tells him it isn't a good idea, that they should stop this. As if feeling his reserve Martín fumbles the button of his jeans open, slips his hand inside and takes hold of Sergio's cock in an unrelenting grip. He hisses, bucks his hips forward into this warm and perfect hand. Martín begins to move it then, fast and expertly, and Sergio remembers all the insistences Martín _offered_ himself to him, regrets not acting upon it sooner. Maybe nothing of this would have happened then, Andrés dying, Martín breaking, himself being responsible for all of it.

“Please,” Martín repeats, mouth sucking on his pulse point and Sergio just nods.

Unceremoniously, he's pulled to the shabby couch and left to stand there awkwardly. He decides to get rid of his trousers while Martín roams the drawers of a small cabinet, returning with a bottle of lube and condoms. He pulls down his shorts as well, lets them fall to the ground, and knees on the sofa, chest lying on the backrest, and uncaps the bottle.

“Let me,” Sergio mumbles and sees Martín's shoulders sink in. He takes the lube, pours some of it onto his slightly shaking fingers, and presses one of them against Martín's hole. He's never done this, neither with a man nor a woman, and the sight is just as strange as the feeling of it. When he pushes his finger in, though, and hears the moan leaving Martín's lips, his own neglected erection starts to twitch.

“More,” Martín growls when the first finger is hardly inside of him yet, and Sergio complies, desperate to replace the fingers with his dick. For a moment it feels impossible to get the second one into the tight ring of muscles, but then it's nearly sucked inside and Martín lets out a hiss of pain. Before Sergio has the chance to ask if he's okay Martín starts to move his hips, vigorously, and his brain just shuts down at the sight. He remembers imagining this, having Martín willing and obedient under him, taking whatever Sergio gives him, groaning in _pain_. He remembers throwing up right after he came to the picture of this, as well, horrified by his own mind and sick desires.

“It's enough,” Martín says when Sergio is just about to push the third finger in.

“I don't think-” he tries to object but is interrupted right away, “Stop thinking _for once_ and just do it.”

So he complies, tries to tell himself he's doing it since Martín wants him to and not because he's sure his brain will just shut down when he doesn't get his dick into Martín immediately, and pulls his fingers out, entirely too fast, so that they both hiss at the feeling of it. Martín unwraps one of the condoms and Sergio gratefully takes it, realizing that it would have been a rather difficult task to fulfil with his slippery and shaking fingers.

Fucking someone in the ass turns out to be more complicated than Sergio thought it would, his dick gliding past the hole a few times before Martín groans in frustration, takes hold of Sergio's cock and just sinks back onto it. It feels so unbelievable tight and hot that he's afraid he'll cum like that without even having moved an inch. He's concentrating so much on getting accustomed to it that he needs a few seconds to realizes that Martín's moans definitely don't come from pleasure any more.

He tries to pull out, apology already on his lips, but Martín beats him to it, “Don't you _dare_. I just need a moment and then-”

“Martín...” Sergio groans, the sick feeling creeping back up on him.

“No! Just... move okay, slowly.”

And Sergio does. Hesitantly, and then, when Martín visibly relaxes, faster. He tries to take hold of Martín's cock, thinks it would be the right thing to do, but his hand is swatted away. “No,” he growls, “Concentrate on fucking me, I'll do it.”

Again, Sergio complies, because what else is he supposed to do? He puts his hands on Martín's hips, holds him in place with a bruising grip, and lets go. It's like floating, he sees stars, looses every feeling but the one of the tightness around his cock. Everything narrows down to it, and he's only dimly aware that Martín started to pump his dick, looking as desperate as Sergio feels. He closes his eyes then, not sure whether he merely wants to fully concentrate on the waves of pleasure pulsating through his body, or whether he wants to shut out the pictures of who is doing that to him.

He cums fast, which isn't surprising but definitely disappointing because he doesn't feel like he had _enough_ of this at all _._ The orgasm shakes him in every core of his being, leaves him breathless, and when he opens his eyes again to pull out, cock already getting soft again, he finds Martín groaning in frustration, still obviously hard. Sitting down on the couch next to him he says, “Let me.” Martín is only shaking his head again, stubbornly biting his bottom lip, and Sergio feels the same frustration creeping up on him. “Just- come on,” and for good measures he adds, “Please.”

Somehow it does the trick, Martín sinks into himself, turns around to sit down on the couch next to Sergio, letting his hands fall down defensively. Sergio doesn't hesitate, puts his hand on Martín's erection, and wonders for a moment why he persisted on finishing him off as he realizes he has no clue what to do now. He moves his hand then like he does on himself, and it's weirdly familiar and strange at the same time. Martín melts into the touch, groans and pants, and is cumming when Sergio just started to feel like he knows what he's doing to some extend. Sergio jerks him through it, carefully to not overstimulate him, and only pulls his hand away when Martín hisses in discomfort.

He's probably supposed to say something, Sergio thinks, and when he looks at Martín he sees that the tears are back in his eyes, threatening to well over. Maybe he should place his arms around Martín, let him cry into his shoulder, again, perhaps it makes Martín feel better, makes _himself_ feel better.

He is overstrained with the situation, has never been the person for a casual hook-up. But that wasn't it, was it, not after knowing each other for years, not after what he did to Martín, not after _Andrés_.

“I won't be one of your puppets,” Martín says after a few moments of strained silence, tears thankfully gone from his eyes, “This is _my_ plan, we're going to lead together.”

“Of course,” Sergio says, expecting this ever since he decided to make Martín a part of it.

“Good, I'll get my stuff,” Martín announces and leaves for what seems to be the bathroom.

Groaning, Sergio lets his head fall against the backrest. They shouldn't have done it, he realizes, just like they shouldn't have done it all those years ago, it will only make things so much more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we are all aware this is fiction, but forcing something into you when it hurts is a really bad idea! Please, don't do this. The myth that anal sex (or having sex for the first time) is supposed to hurt is rubbish, so if it does, stop immediately and take your time for more preparation. Seriously, never continue with anything that feels uncomfortable.  
> Stay safe guys and see you next time.


	2. Sergio/Raquel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, but I thought it would be more practical than chasing you with a gun. We've done that, after all, and this,” for good measurement she starts to move her finger in and out of him, “is definitely more fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Raquel/Sergio  
>  **Chapter warnings/tags:** pegging, strap-ons, established relationship

“You have to keep _calm_ no matter how high the pressure is,” Sergio tells _his class_ and adds, “Not like in the Mint. We can't afford that either of us loses their head, and especially not over personal matters.”

The look that Raquel gives him in that moment should have been a warning, at least Sergio realizes this in the evening when he walks into their room. It got late, he had a discussion with Martín over why they definitely won't kill any hostages, and had to explain to Tokyo why they won't sent a bunch of hit-men into the police tent, either. Conversations they have had countless of times by now and he is more than sick off.

“I'm sorry,” he says upon entering, “I got-” He closes his mouth when his eyes land on Raquel who sits naked on their bed, only covered by a piece of blanket around her middle.

She grins, obviously due to his speechlessness, but who could blame him, really? “I think you said something about ' _keeping calm under pressure_ ',” she asks innocently.

Trying to keep a straight, serious face he walks closer to the bed, “I'm quite sure I did.”

“Oh, but that is something that has to be _practiced,_ ” she muses.

“Certainly,” he agrees, finally having reached her. He's just about to lean down, to place his lips on hers, when she pulls the covers away. Turns out she isn't completely naked; around her hips she has fastened a strap-on. It's purple and thicker, yet shorter, than the one they've got back home in Palawan, and he wonders where she got it from.

He lets out a shuddering breath and she grins even wider. “Yes?” she asks.

“Definitely,” he agrees with a hoarse voice.

Apparently, it's all that she has waited for. In one swift motion she's is standing, hands already on the buttons of his shirt. In no time at all he's naked as well, slightly shivering against the cool air. She gets to her tiptoes, plants an opened-mouthed kiss against his lips. Coming a step closer she presses the dildo against his already half-hard cock and he can't stop a low moan from slipping out.

“Bend over,” she whispers and he complies, placing his forearms on the bed, ass just the right height for her to sink into him. He shivers in anticipation.

“So, tell me about how we're getting into the vault,” she demands.

“We- what?” he asks confused and lets out a hiss when a cold liquid hits his hole.

“Performing under pressure, you said it's essential.” He hears the grin on her face, but cannot concentrate on much else than on the finger that presses against him.

“I don't think I'll need to make decision while having sex,” he objects and moans when the finger slips into him, stretching him deliciously.

“No, but I thought it would be more practical than chasing you with a gun. We've done that, after all, and this,” for good measurement she starts to move her finger in and out of him, “is _definitely_ more fun.”

He wants to agree but is too distracted with not falling down on the bed entirely. She suddenly stops her movements, though, and before he can complain she reminds him, “The vault, love, tell me about it.”

So he does, tries to concentrate on their plan and every eventuality that could prevent them from going through with it, which is not nearly as easy as it had been this morning, especially not when Raquel pushes the second finger into him. He's consistently interrupted by his moaning and whenever he stops speaking for a few seconds she stops with the movement of her fingers as well. It's all rather frustrating.

He just finished explaining how they'll melt the gold when she pushes a third finger into him and he forgets about everything around, drops his head down onto the bed, there are only her fingers and the delicious stretch. “Keep going,” she reminds him, obviously enjoying what she does to him. He takes a shuddering breath, is nearly able to direct his thoughts away from the prefect, breathtaking feeling and back to the plan, when she seemingly decides this it the right moment to let the fingers brush against his prostate.

By now she knows him well enough to avoid touching certain spots and moving in a particular ways which are making him lose control over his body until she deems it's the right moment to do so. This time it isn't any different; upon the first, small contact Sergio feels like electric shocks are being sent through his whole body, and when she keeps going he's positive he sees stars.

“ _Professor_ ,” she drawls it out like a moan, “Tell me what we'll do when one of us gets captured.”

“Raquel-” he protests, the fingers frustratingly stopping in their tracks once again.

“I'm merely following your instructions here,” she says innocently, and when he turns around to look at her he sees her smiling brightly, “You can't be too well prepared, can you?”

“No,” he agrees through clenched teeth and tries to remember her question. “Plan Paris,” he says in the end, and thankfully her fingers start to move inside of him again, only brushing against his prostate with every other thrust, though. He feels the desperate need to touch his cock, but is aware that he'll cum in ten seconds if he gives in and he definitely doesn't want this to be over just now so he claws his hand into the covers.

They spend a few, agonizing minutes like that; him explaining how they'll build a tunnel and replace one of their own with a random stand-in to get them back, all the while desperately sinking into Raquel's fingers which are too much and not enough at all, at the same time.

“Please,” he says when he's sure can't endure it any second longer, “I need _you_ , I need more.”

She places an open-mouth kiss on his back and pulls her fingers out slowly. He feels his hole gaping with the loss and shivers when Raquel traces around it with her thumb. “I love this sight,” she remarks, which doesn't help with feeling close to cumming. At all.

He expects her to sink her silicone-cock into him every second now, _awaits_ it, but instead she flops down on the bed, arms under her head and looking up at him with a mischievous grin, “Come on then.”

Sergio wants to protest, this is not what he had in mind, he expected to be _taken_ , but the look on Raquel's face makes it clear she won't be convinced otherwise. When she first asked him do to it he hated it, felt uncomfortable with the thought of sitting on her, exposed, revealing how much he loves getting fucked, something he hardly ever got around to act upon. He still feels self-conscious when he rides himself on the strap-on, facing her, but he got to appreciate the way she looks at him, how much she enjoys to see him that utterly out of his mind. The good thing about it, he realizes, is that this way she won't be able to torment him with any more questions about the plan, so after he few seconds he joins her on the bed.

“Won't last long,” he mumbles and sinks slowly down on the dildo, placing his hands on her thighs behind her. It's thicker than her fingers but not _too_ thick and when he's fully settled onto it, it presses perfectly against his prostate.

“How unfortunate,” she says, but the grin on her face indicates that she doesn't mind at all, probably pleased about the way she got him worked up with only her fingers.

He starts to move then, lifts his hips slowly up just to sink back down, staying there for a moment to get accustomed to the feeling, the dildo making it so much more intense than her hand before.

“Want me to...?” she suggest and his already holding his cock in a loose grip. He nods, dick twitching at the small contact, and starts to move his hips in earnest.

She jerks him through it, at first carefully, than, as his rides her faster, picking up the pace, as well. It's heaven, everything leaves his body, the worry, the anticipation, the fear, and only arousal is left, burning through every cell. He moans embarrassingly loud, but he learned how much it turns her on so he doesn't try to stop the sounds from coming.

At some point the pleasure becomes too much, he feels like he's close to falling apart while not being able to let go. He stops his movements, bends forward, places his hands next to Raquel's head and sucks on the skin of her shoulder to muffle himself, to feel anything besides the pulsating heat taking hold of his whole body.

She jerks him faster and harder, lets out a stream of words he doesn't understand, and then moves her hips, pushing the dildo impossibly deeper into him. He orgasms like that, trembling and groaning and covering them both in his cum. For a few seconds he stays like that, breathing into her shoulder and trying to get back to his senses.

“Good?” she laughs.

“Perfect,” he answers, places a kiss on her lips and lifts himself off the strap-on, hissing when it slips out of him completely. He plants a trail of kisses along her body, knees down between her legs, and finds her soaking wet. Without further hesitation he takes her clit into his mouth, sucks on it and enjoys to hear her cursing upon the touch.

She bucks her hips against him, places one hand on his head to pull him closer, and only lets go somewhat when he moves his fingers up to sink them into her. With a low moan she clenches down around them, and he thrust them into her, licks and sucks her clit until she cums with a shout. He keeps on going lazily, but she uses the hand still buried in his hair to pull him up to her face with a shaky laugh. “Enough,” she breathes.

“Want to talk some more about the plan?” he asks with a small smile when he settle down next to her, one arm thrown over her rapidly sinking and falling chest.

“Do you?” she grins and slips a finger into his still loose and slick hole.

“Tomorrow?” he suggest.

“Definitely.”


	3. Rio/Alicia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one of the good days because _she_ is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Rio/Alicia Sierra  
>  **Chapter warnings/tags:** rape/non-con, mentions of torture, genral fucked-up-ness
> 
> I'm sorry.

It's one of the good days because _she_ is there. She gets him out of his cell, takes hold of his arm when there is no wall to support his weight and he suddenly has to keep himself up and fails. He's shaking, but he always is, and soon the shaking will be gone. Soon he'll be able to breathe again.

She takes him into the bathroom, she doesn't do it every time, only when reeks too much or when she feels like it, he doesn't know. There is already water in the bathtub, warm and smelling of flowers, and he nearly cries when she helps him settling into it. She washes his hair for him since he's too tired to hold his arms up. It's not easy on her either, her belly is in the way so she can't come too close to the tub, has to rub the soap into his hair in an awkward angle. 

He thinks he dozes off because suddenly her hands are gone and the water is rapidly sinking around him. He finally stopped shaking. She helps him up, gets a towel around his shoulder, rubs him dry. “There,” she says with a warm smile and he wants to thank her, but feels unable to speak.

After she dressed him, put scratchy sweatpants and a plain t-shirt on him that are still better than being naked, she leads him into the small bedroom which he assumes is hers despite the lack of any personal belongings. They hardly ever go here, the only regularity to it is that she baths him before they do, but not every bath leads to this. Sometimes it's hard to wrap his head around it.

“Just the two of us,” she affirms and he's relieved, the pain only comes when _they_ are there.

She lets him sit on the bed and it feels so good to have a soft surface under him, that he would lie down if it weren't for her body next to his. “How are you?” she asks and strokes a wet, too long curl from his forehead.

“Good,” he says. It's a lie and she knows it, but her being there is the closes he gets to _good_ these days. She is aware of that as well.

She smiles as if it makes her happy to hear it, and maybe it does, sometimes she is an enigma. She continues to stroke his hair, lets her hand wander over his face to his shoulders. He melts into her touch. “It's okay,” she mumbles and he realizes only then that he started shaking again.

It's all the permission he needs. He lets his head fall against her shoulder, throws his arms around her body and tries to hold on despite how much the motion hurts his weak arms. She returns the embrace, pulls him in until he's pressed against her belly. Sometimes he hates it is there, like a wall separating them, but whenever she takes his hand to let him feel the kicking under her skin he forgets about his resentment.

He wants to cry, for a moment tears seem to well up in his eyes, however, they don't fall, they never fall these days. He nuzzles closer and she lets him, places a small kiss on the top of his head.

“You want me to make you feel good?” comes her voice through this comfortable haze. Again, he doesn't know how much time has passed.

It's not really a question, he once told her no and she did it anyway, but he doesn't want to tell her off any more, likes what she does to him so much that he can't deny it, not even to himself. “Yes.” His voice is hoarse. Another kiss to his forehead and her hand wanders down his body. They are sitting side by side which allows her to get excess to his groin without having to let go of him. He likes it that way.

She makes him lift his hips so that she can pull down his pants, frees his already hard cock. The first time he was ashamed of it, of getting aroused by her holding him, by her soothing the pain away, but she told him he doesn't need to be and he listened.

Her hand on his dick is warm and tight, stroking him just at the right pace. By now shevs perfectly aware of how to move in order to wring low, desperate moans out of him. He always tries to keep it quiet, but it never works, not when she flicks her hand over the tip of his dick and uses the leaking precum as lube. Pictures of another woman come to his mind and he does his best to shove them back into the little corner where he stores them, not wanting to mix them up.

He presses his face into her breasts, she likes it when he does that, even more so when he uses his hand, as well, to cup them, squeeze them. Today he feels too tired for that, though, and she doesn't complain.

She moves her hand faster and faster until he bucks up into it, until the orgasm takes hold of his whole body, making him forget where he is for a few wonderful seconds. When it's over he sinks into himself, boneless, unable to keep up any longer, and falls back onto the mattress. Through heavy-lidded eyes he sees her licking his cum off her fingers and he feels another wave of arousal rolling through his body.

She helps him to place his legs on the bed, then licks him clean, as well. These are the only instances she ever takes his cock into her mouth; when he lies spent under her. Sometimes he wants to cum down her throat desperately, but he doesn't dare to ask for it. When she's done and he's shaking with the overstimulation she lies down with him, back to his chest. In the beginning they lay the other way around, but now her belly is too huge. He hates it, it's a constant reminder that she'll leave him soon. A sick feeling spreads in his stomach. He doesn't want to think about her leaving, not now.

He slings one arm around her, pulls her tight skirt up. She never asks him to do that, but it feels like it's only right, he _wants_ to do it. He finds her panties soaked and she helps him pull them down. She takes a sharp breath when he aims right for her clit since he loves to feel her falling apart in his arms.

After rubbing her for a while he pushes his fingers into her, she is so turned on that he doesn't bother to go slow, uses three immediately. Maybe he wants to hurt her, sometimes he wants to hear her moan in pain and not in pleasure, but she enjoys all of his touches. Just as he enjoys all of hers.

He moves his fingers in and out of her in a fast motion, breathes into her neck, relishes that she gets pliant against him, that he's in control for once, even though it's only fleeting. His hand gets tired soon, cramped with the strange angle, and she takes pity on him, helps him by placing her own fingers on her clit. When she cums it's only the clenching around his fingers that gives it away, otherwise she is completely silent. He hates that, he wants to hear her scream.

Wincing, he pulls his hand out of her. Sometimes she isn't satisfied with cumming once, she never tells him, but he feels it in the way she craves his touch. Today isn't one of those days, though, and he's glad about it, he's hardly able to keep his eyes open as it is. He places his hand on her hip and it feels nearly possessive.

“You have to tell them what you know,” she whispers.

“I don't know anything,” he objects. He's too tired for it, doesn't want to go through it again.

“They don't believe you, and they won't let you go until you told them everything.” Her voice is warm and loving and when he doesn't say anything else she continues, “I won't be here for much longer, and I don't want to leave you behind. But I can't take you home if you don't help me.”

“I try to, I do my best,” he promises. The shaking is back, just as the tight feeling in his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

“I know,” she soothes, “I know. I'm with you. Now, sleep.”

He does then, enjoys lying in bed with her in his arms for as long as might last.


	4. Ágata/Sergio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the contrary, Sergio is rather nice, almost _shy_ even. And cute, she realizes, despite the nerdy glasses and the clothes which make him look like an accountant in his forties. Okay, maybe it's _because_ of that, and the fact that he starts to blush slightly when she says, “Oh, now I know what your brother was talking about,” isn't helping either. They'll definitely get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: _"Would you be willing to write a Nairobi/Professor one shot in your latest fic? They're my favorite crack-ship and there isn't any content for them. I think Sergio might have benefited to know a woman like Nairobi earlier in life, to bring spontaneity love of life and emotional compassion/intelligence; Nairobi would have benefited from the stability, steadiness, ambition and determination brought by the professor. I think they would work well together, maybe in a AU."_  
>  Hope you like it!  
>  **Pairing:** Ágata/Sergio  
>  **Chapter warnings/tags:** (non-graphic) sex, (non-graphic) masturbation, AU, pre-canon, plot

“I'm positive the two of you will get along,” Andrés says, finishing his story about persuading his brother to help them stealing those diamonds, claiming they'd need his 'strategic mind' to get into the museum in the first place.

Ever since Ágata met him, sitting next to each other in a police station one night - both wrongfully arrested, of course - she took a liking in him and surprisingly the feeling turned out to be mutual. This, however, doesn't mean she's ready to put up with some _mini-Andrés_ , but since it's always pointless to argue with him and they're already in his car, driving to said brother, she only shrugs and grumbles, “We'll see about that.”

Turns out he's right, though, because when she's introduced to their new partner there seems to be no trace of the asshole-gene that is so dominate in Andrés, on the contrary, Sergio is rather nice, almost _shy_ even. And cute, she realizes, despite the nerdy glasses and the clothes which make him look like an accountant in his forties. Okay, maybe it's _because_ of that, and the fact that he starts to blush slightly when she says, “Oh, now I know what your brother was talking about,” isn't helping either. They'll definitely get along.

Unfortunately, Sergio isn't too convinced about it. “... matter, she's practically a _child_ ,” Ágata hears him say right after she left the bathroom she excused herself to a few minutes after arriving.

“A rather talented child,” Andrés objects with a laugh.

“A _child_ who needs to be home soon,” she says with a sly grin as she walks back into the living room, “my girlfriends will come over so that we can play with our dolls.” She has been called worse than 'child', far worse, but she's still satisfied to see the embarrassment on Sergio's face.

-

With taking care of a toddler and working full-hours in a bar there is not much time for meeting with a pair of criminals in order to prepare a heist, let alone to sleep. Thus, a few days pass before she's able to go back to Sergio's where she finds the two men hunched over various sheets of paper, and taking the stale air and the dark rings under their eyes into account they're sitting like that for a while now.

“You look horrible,” Andrés says matter of factly when she sits down with them.

“Thanks, you're not the definition of beauty either.” He's right though, Axel kept her up all night, and when she finally did fall asleep she was woken up by her neighbour Carla brining over her baby-girl for Ágata to look after. Between changing diapers and comforting crying children she still found time to work on a first sample of the fake diamonds they'll exchange with the real ones with, though, so she pulls them out of her bag and says, “Did you get what I asked for or are we just here to compliment each other?”

For the next few hours they work in relative silence and when Andrés goes out in order to get them 'real food' which most of the time means overpriced, yet delicious, sushi, Sergio suddenly stands next to the desk she made into her work bench. “Why are you doing this?”

She looks up, confused, and explains, “Well, I use the drill to-”

“No, I mean all of this,” he makes a small motion with his hand, “I'm sorry I called you a child last time, but you _are_ young. Shouldn't you be in school or get into some form of training that will allow you to work in a... real job?”

Her first instinct is to get angry, but then she sees the concerned look on his face and only shakes her head in disbelieve and lets out a small huff. “That's really hypocritical, taking into account that _you_ are not working 'a real job' either, isn't it.”

“You're probably right,” he admits what surprises her only further, “I think I just want you to know that this isn't the only way, and that you're aware that getting through with it could mean being arrested and losing any chance on leading a _normal_ life.”

“Do you really think I'd forge fake diamonds if it _weren't_ the only way?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I just...” he sighs, “I want you to know that you still can get out.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, “But I really want that money, you know?”

Smiling mildly he goes back to his own desk and Ágata can't help but feel weirdly flustered for the rest of the day. She doesn't remember anyone ever being concerned over what she's doing with her life.

-

The following days she is able to go to Sergio's apartment, that turned into their criminal head quarters, more often since she cut down the hours at the bar, hoping that she can soon quit entirely. Fortunately, they're making rapid progress, even set a date for the break-in no one-and-half months from now, so leaving all this shit behind seems to become more and more possible by the day. Sergio warms up around her, as well, doesn't call her a child or tries to make her change her mind again, and he starts to _stare_. It's nothing new, ever since she got breasts men are staring at her, but it doesn't feel as uncomfortable, as objectifying, as it usually does. She likes how his eyes are glued to her lips when she talks, and how he smiles at her whenever he opens the door to let her in, and how he his cheeks get pink when she touches him, even if it's just innocently. One could argue she only catches him staring because _she_ is staring herself, and when she realizes that she makes up her mind that there is no real reason to _not_ fuck Sergio.

-

After Axel fell asleep that evening, unusually fast, she lies down in her own bed, determined to get a full night of sleep. Her mind keeps racing, though, so she attempts to shut it up with tiring her body out. She takes the vibrator out of her night stand and aims straight for her clit, trying to focus on the nice feeling. It's not enough, so she indulges in some fantasies that normally get her off, just to have her thoughts land on Sergio and she starts to wonders what he would be like in bed.

He's shy, however too good looking for him to be a virgin, but he's probably not into casual sex either. He would be sweet, placing her needs over his own, making sure she cums before he does. Maybe he'd eat her out, let her fuck his face and enjoy it, he definitely seems to be a guy who likes to be handled. She would get onto her knees for him, suck him down until she hears him moan, and let him cum on her face.

With the thought of straddling him and riding his cock until she feels him spill inside of her she finally hits her orgasm.

-

Ágata always took what she wanted and she always _got_ what she wanted, so it's rather frustrating to find her plan to seduce Sergio being more difficult than she first thought it would be. Mainly, because they are hardly ever alone, and flirt when _Andrés_ of all people is in the same room is something she not really thrilled about, let alone when the person she wants to get it on with is his little brother. Another part of the problem is that Sergio seems to be absolutely oblivious of her flirting whenever they find themselves alone for a few minutes after all.

However, Ágata always gets what she wants and no ten days before the heist she finds a way to get Sergio, as well.

-

It's Friday evening, Axel is staying with Carla overnight, she's standing in front of Sergio's apartment, wanting to work on some last details, and is let inside with the usual smile. “Andrés won't be here tonight, it's his and his wife's anniversary,” it nearly sounds apologetic.

“Oh, I remember his _wife_ ,” Ágata grins, “You seem to be just as found of her.” She met the woman once, got called a variety of names and if it weren't for her experiences with jealous wives and girlfriends she even would have got herself slapped. Of course, there had been nothing to be jealous about, Ágata merely made some general remarks about giving great head when she realized how Andrés' wife looked at her, like she was something _nasty,_ something too unworthy to even be talked to.

“She definitely isn't my favourite,” Sergio says tight-lipped and Ágata wonders if he got slapped as well.

“So he had been married before?” Once again she realizes how little she knows about either of them, despite having met Andrés nearly a year ago.

“She is his third wife.”

“Oh, well, I'm not even surprised to be honest,” she laughs, “But if your brother is getting the evening off we definitely do, too.”

“I'm sorry you drove all the way here. If I knew you wanted to come over I would have called.” Again, there is this apologetic tone in his voice and this cute look on his face, and she has to stop herself from going over and just kiss him, afraid he will be too shocked and kick her out immediately.

“No, I meant the two of us, together,” she says with a grin, “We should go out, have some fun.”

“I'm not the guy who likes to 'go out',” Sergio says slowly like he's stating the obvious, which he honestly is.

“That's only because you never got out _with me_. Come on, it will be fun. I know a nice place in walking distance from here. It's not too crowed or loud, and the people are nice.” She tries to look as sweet as possible, even pouts a little.

He seems to mull it over and when he sighs in the end he isn't able to conceal the small smile that is forming on his lips, “Alright, but I'm not staying there until the wee hours of the morning.”

“I promise you it will be great,” she grins, and is already taking hold of his hand to pull him out of his apartment before he can change his mind.

-

Of course, she was right, it definitely _is_ fun. She leads Sergio to the bar immediately, orders them two beers and shots, and isn't too surprised when he's hesitant to drink them. After she tells him it's fine, she isn't an asshole despite people tending to call her that after all, he gulps the tequila down, though, and soon she finds out that drunk-Sergio is a rather talkative-Sergio.

When she starts to feel more than tipsy, tongue already heavy in her mouths, she asks what she wondered about ever since meeting him for the first time, “Well, what made you become a,” she takes a look around, but sees no one standing close to the booth they're sitting in, so she continues with a giggle, “ _criminal?_ ”

He seems to think about it for a moment, takes another sip of his beer and says, “I was born into it, I guess. I grew up with stories about break-ins and robberies, and Andrés got me completely _into it_ when I came off age. The rush of seeing a plan unfold, of being in control... I like it.” He smiles, nearly dreamily, and to some extent she might understand him, even though forging stuff felt never _romantic_ , it has always been more of a necessity.

Thus, when he asks about her story she answers, ”Neglectful parents, bad neighbourhood, even worse friends, teenage-pregnancies, having no money, well, you know the drill.” From the look of it he really doesn't, so she only shrugs and adds, “But a few days from now the 'no money'-part won't be a problem any more.”

“It won't,” he affirms.

-

No hour later they're inside a club, dancing with her arms thrown around his neck and his hands on her hips. She still doesn't know how she convinced him to come here, but she sure as hell won't complain, not when she feels his skin under her fingers. Laughing she pulls him closer, enjoys the feeling of his arms encircling her waist, _entrapping_ her.

The music is too loud, her head hurts with the drumming of the bass, and yet she tries to fade it out, to concentrate on the way the rhythm seems to flow through her body, makes it move on it own. Sergio doesn't strike her as a guy who likes to dance and yet it seems to come naturally to him. They are moving in sync, like one, like they were made for this.

She doesn't know who kisses whom first, but it doesn't really matter, the only things left are his lips on hers and his tongue in her mouth. When she presses herself even more against him she feels the hard outline of his dick against her middle. Involuntarily she moans, wants nothing more than to rub herself on him. “Let's go to the bathroom,” she suggests when they let go of each other, but he only shakes his head.

The awfully shame of being rejected starts to take hold of her, and she's already about to storm off, leave him and his boring clothes, and stupid face, and ugly glasses behind, when he shouts, “I'll call us a cab, let's get back to mine.” She is more relieved than it's probably good for her.

-

Calling a cab feels excessive since it's not even a fifteen minute walk to his apartment, but she stops thinking about it when he uses the ride to kiss her again. When he lets his hand wander up her stomach and shamelessly begins to squeeze her breasts through her shirt and bra she wonders whether her take on him being shy and wanting to be led during sex has been wrong. Yes, she clearly got the wrong notion before, she decides, when he literally carries her up the few stairs to his apartment and more or less throws her onto his bed.

“Are you alright?” he asks after she hit the mattress with a _thud,_ looking somewhat worried.

Laughing, she wraps her legs around his waist, makes him topple over and fall down on her, “ _Yes_ , now get out of your clothes.”

He does as she told him, and as soon as they're both naked he starts do roam his night stand which gives her a few seconds to marvel at his body. For someone who doesn't seem to do a lot of sports he looks oddly fit and muscular, his chest is covered in fine, dark hair and it leads in a trail right down to his cock. It's rather on the thick-end, a few drops of precum already leaking from its tip, and she finds herself licking her lips subconsciously, wanting to taste it, feel him pulsating inside of her mouth.

Sergio obviously has other plans since she can't do so much else as sitting up before he rolls a condom over his dick and knees back down between her legs. “Alright?” he asks, and _of course_ he's a guy who waits for verbal permission. She always thought it was stupid when some of her friends talked about it and framed it as something a partner _should_ do, the way she touches and kisses them is clearly proof enough of her willingness, but now she finds it oddly hot.

“Fuck, yes,” she says and the words have hardly left her mouth when he's already sinking into her.

Even though she wasn't right about him wanting to be handled she definitely had the right idea about him placing his needs over hers, for that he starts to rub her clit nearly as soon as he begins to thrust his hips into her. She arches her back and moans when he finds the right pace and pressure to move his fingers with and is cumming awfully fast.

After catching her breath she makes him lie down on his back, straddles him and fucks herself slowly on his cock. She enjoys the pleasant tingle, his moans and gasps, and his hands that roam her body. When he cums himself he pulls her down to him and kisses her through it.

It tastes wonderfully sweet.

-

Ágata wakes up with a dry mouth and without the headache she feared of getting. When she opens her eyes she finds that Sergio isn't spared by those unpleasant side-effects, though, at least taking the pained look and tightly shut eyes into account.

“Need an Aspirin?” she asks and quickly checks her watch, realizing she needs to leave soon to pick up Axel on the appointed time.

“No,” he says and sits up with a slight wince, “Just some time to gather myself.”

“As you wish,” she laughs and sits up herself. In the process she lets covers slide of her body, revealing her naked chest. He looks at her breasts and adverts his eyes immediately, nearly shameful.

“Listen,” he begins and an uneasy feeling starts to spread in her body, “I'm sorry if I have been too rough last night. I'm not used to being drunk, which isn't an apology. And I- I just hope that I didn't do anything you didn't want me to.”

She shakes her head, slightly confused, “No, it was fine. Great actually, no need to worry.”

“Okay, good. I liked it as well, but that doesn't mean you're... _obligated_ to do anything. We're going to steal the diamonds in a few days and whether you... or you don't, it doesn't matter because-”

Involuntarily she begins to laugh which makes him stops mid-sentence, now him being the one who's looking confused. “I'm glad we're on the same page here, but I'm not afraid you're expecting regular, sexual favours in order for me to be allowed on the job. Which doesn't mean I'm not willing to give them,” she adds with a wink and enjoys the way his cheeks start to slightly blush again.

“Alright,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“Alright,” she agrees and places a small peck on his lips before getting up, “Unfortunately I have to go now, I'm supposed to pick up my son in half an hour.”

“Your... son?” Sergio asks, making it sound like he thinks he misheard.

“Yeah?” She raises her eyebrow because, sure, she never did tell him about Axel, never talks about him with either of the brother really, but Andrés knows about him and she's pretty sure she let some hint slip last night. On top of that Sergio has seen her naked, she is _currently_ standing naked in front of him, still gathering her closing. “You have seen the scar,” she says in the end and points to her stomach where the C-section scar is still clearly visible.

“Yes, I just thought-” He doesn't finish it, stops himself before he lets those words out, but it's more than obvious what he wanted to say; _I just thought you gave him away, you of all people shouldn't be taking care of a child._

She's aware he's right, that she's _unfit_ for the role of a mother, but knowing he thinks that of her as well still hurts, and apparently she isn't hiding it too well. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“No, it's alright,” she interrupts him and dresses herself hastily, “But I _really_ need to go now.”

She is out of his apartment in her car in no time at all.

-

The following day she tries to forget about the way his nearly spoken remark has hurt her since the whole thing is rather stupid anyway. They are working together to make some easy money, she finds him hot and they have had sex. That's it, no point in caring about what he thinks of her.

When she goes to his apartment the next day to get over the plan one finale time before the break-in she has the memory of the incident pushed deep into the back of her mind, feeling nothing but indifference towards Sergio. This changes, though, when she sits down at the table where both men are already seated, and he says, “I don't want you to go through with it.”

“You don't- what?” She is completely taken aback and the sour look on Andrés faces indicates she heard it right. 

Sergio clears his throat before he elaborates, “I don't think you should do the break-in with us. I have thought about it and I-”

“Oh right, so much for not expecting any sexual favours,” she growls, feeling hot anger crawling through her body, “But of course you don't want me in your little team after we fucked and I proved myself to be a _whore_. Because that what I am to you now, am I not? Since-”

“This is not what this is about and I certainly don't think that you're a 'whore',” he interrupts her, sounding calm even though his cheeks are redder than she has ever seen them before.

“You failed to mention this little detail,” Andrés says, seemingly amused.

“Because this is _not_ why I want her out, but because either of you failed to tell me about the _child_.”

“What does he got to with it?” she asks, confusion mixing with her anger.

“My brother wants to be your knight in shining armour,” Andrés remarks.

“You're not helpful,” Sergio tells him and sighs before looking at her again, “We are all risking a lot, but with you it's different. If they arrest us and ultimately send us to prison you'll lose your son. And when you'll get out there is no way to be sure they'll give him back to you. It's not worth the risk.”

Of course, she has thought about it, spent restless nights with pondering the question what she would do if anyone ever takes Axel from her. She is afraid of losing him ever since she had him, though, and this break-in, this money, is her opportunity to give him a better life. However, she'll be damned if she admits to it so she settles for, “Would you tell me the same thing if I were a man? No, because a father is allowed to act as his own person, but a mother on the other hand is only that; _a mother_. Why do you think I never told you about my son? Because now everything you can think about when you look at me is what a _horrible person_ I am.”

“That's not true,” Sergio is sounding so honest that she might even believe him.

“Than why do you want to kick me out?”

“I don't want to kick you out. You'll get your share, you've done your part, I just don't want you to be present at the break-in. If something goes wrong... you shouldn't be there.”

She shakes her head, frustrated with this ill-logic, “You _will be_ caught if I'm not there. The plan was, _and is_ , that the three of us are going in, changing that last minute is fucking stupid. And guess what, I'm doing this because I _need_ the money, and there won't be any when you get thrown into prison because you were too proud to let me do my job.”

“We'll postpone-”

“God, why are we even talking about this,” she looks at Andrés who's still following their dispute with a sly smile on his face, “You want me out, as well?”

“No,” he simply says and that's all she wanted to hear.

“So, two to one, can we cut this bullshit now and start with what we actually wanted to do? I don't have all day because I'm too busy with _being a mum_.”

That seems to make Sergio shut up after all, and reluctantly he places the building plans on the table for them to rehearse how exactly they'll slip past the alarm systems. For the rest of the night she only tries to think about all that money she'll get her hands on soon and and the fact that she won't be forced to meet with Sergio ever again.

-

She is just about to leave her flat to go grocery shopping when her phone starts ringing. Hardly anyone knows her number, let alone calls her if it isn't an emergency, so with Axel in her arms she walks back into the living room and picks up.

“Hello, it's me. Sergio.” He adds his name like he's uncertain whether she'd recognize his voice, which seems to be sort of stupid considering she had his dick inside of her no three days ago.

“Hi,” she says and tries to sound as indifferent as possible. The anger from last night subsided, mainly because she can't deny that he's _got a point._ Doesn't mean she wants to talk to him, though.

“I wanted to apologize. For what I said last night. I didn't- I know it's not my place to tell you what to do and I should have talked with you about it, explained why I am concerned, instead of saying I want you out.”

“Yes, that would have been a lot nicer,” she sighs and sets Axel down who started to squirm impatiently.

“I wasn't _proud_ , I was worried and I guess I still am.” She wonders what kind of face he's making right now, if he fumbles with his glasses like he sometimes does when he's nervous.

“I'm not a child, Sergio,” she reminds him.

“I know.”

“And I'm aware of what could go wrong and what that could mean for my life. It's not your job to save me and neither do I want you to.”

“Yes, I'm aware of that. I'm sorry.”

“It's alright. Now, stop thinking about it and focus on the plan that will make rich people out of us by tomorrow.”

She practically hears his smile when they hang up.

-

Closing her eyes she starts to count down from ten in order to calm her twitchy body. She knows that as soon as they're are getting in there she will be fine, able to _concentrate_. However now, sitting in their hide-out next to Sergio and waiting for Andrés to give them their go, she feels like she'll get mad any second.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Sergio's voice suddenly pierces through the rushing of blood in her ears.

“You- I think that's not the right time,” she whispers.

“Sorry, I only- I thought I ask before," he sighs, "I just wanted to know the answer.” He nearly looks ashamed and reminds her so much of the shy man she met two months ago that she feels her lips tucking upward.

“I have to finish this little thing first, but after that I'm free.”

He returns her smile, “I take that as a 'yes'?”

Before Ágata can say anything else Andrés appears from around the corner, and with one last deep breath she gets up.


	5. Stockholm/Denver/Rio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Denver and her didn't talk about it, didn't need to, really, she takes Rio's hand into her own when the time for departure comes and sees the look of surprise and relief on his face. They end up in a beautiful house in South Africa, and when she enters it for the first time she nearly feels like everything will be okay. Of course, it isn't that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be smut, than I wanted it to be platonic and now it's neither. 
> 
> **Pairing:** Stockholm/Denver & Stockholm/Denver/Rio  
>  **Chapter warnings/tags:** Aftermath of Torture, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, (non graphic) Threesome

They leave the Bank of Spain after ten days, and even though they've got what they wanted, Rio and the gold, it doesn't feel like a victory. They still lost Nairobi, they still went through things worse than what they had to live through during their time in the Mint, and even though the outcome is objectively better they are all far from _fine._

After two weeks on the run they get to a safe-house where Cincinnati already waits for them, and when Stockholm finally holds her son in her arms she starts to cry, all those tears she held back the last few days coming to the surface. Next to her Denver is crying as well, covers first Cincinnati's face in kisses and then hers. “Please, tell me we're getting through this,” he asks with a hoarse voice, holding both of them close.

“We'll do our best,” she promises, wanting this, him, their family, to work out more than she ever did.

-

The team splits up again after a night of drinking, celebrating and grieving. Even though Denver and her didn't talk about it, didn't need to, really, she takes Rio's hand into her own when the time for departure comes and sees the look of surprise and relief on his face. They end up in a beautiful house in South Africa, and when she enters it for the first time she nearly feels like everything will be okay. Of course, it isn't that easy.

-

“I was so scared,” Denver admits one night when they are lying in bed, facing each other, “I was terrified to lose you. To a bullet, to the police arresting you, it didn't matter. And seeing _Arturo_ , listening to him talking about what he _did to you_...” He trembles, eyes full of disgust. She places a hand on his cheek to stroke his skin, to soothe the bad memories away. “I wanted to kill him. I'm glad I didn't, and I'm sorry I lost my mind in front of you, but I'm not... he deserved it. And I need you to know, I _promise you_ , I won't ever raise my hand against you, or our son, or any one ever again.”

“I know,” she whisper, “I know. It's okay. I know you're not a violent man.”

“I am,” he objects with a pained look in his eyes, holds onto her hand that still strokes his cheek like he needs it to ground himself. “I don't want to, but I am. I get lost in my head, obsess over little things and then I lose my temper, only see this stupid, insignificant thing that got me worked up in the first place. And I don't want that any more.”

“So, we'll work on it,” she says and places a kiss on his forehead, “I'm with you.”

-

At first Stockholm thinks Rio got better after leaving the Bank and all the threats to their lives behind, that being in a safe place helps him to _feel safe_ , as well. Apparently, he only got better at hiding it, though, and she is angry with herself that she hasn't realized it sooner.

They are living in their new home for two weeks when she gets up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep, and decides to go outside into their garden. For a moment she doesn't notice anything is wrong, but then she hears these weird noises, and when she turns around she finds Rio sitting with his back against the outer wall of their house, head between his knees and obviously unable to breathe.

“Rio,” she says while getting closer carefully. He looks up then, eyes small and scared, and seemingly as taken aback to find her here as she is. “You're fine. You're safe,” she sits down next to him, places her hand on his shoulder, feels the violent shakes rattling through his body, “We're in South Africa, you and me and Denver and Cincinnati. And we're all fine, it's just the four of us.”

When he doesn't show any sign that he understands what she saying, she pulls him closer, takes him into her arms in a tight embrace. He claws his hands into her shirt immediately, buries his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. They stay like that for a few minutes while she whispers into his ear and holds him until his shaking finally stops and his breathing calms down. She feels overstrained, seeing him like that, doesn't know what she's supposed to do to help him, to make the pain go away.

“How long is it like that again?” she asks, her foreboding confirmed when he doesn't answers. “Why didn't you tell me?” _Why didn't I see the way you still suffer._ She tries not to reveal any of the anger she feels, not towards him, but towards herself.

“I don't want to be more of a burden than I already am,” Rio admits, and hearing this hurts, somehow even more than watching him reliving the hell they put him through ever did.

She takes his face into her hands, makes him look into her eyes, “You have never been, and _never will_ be a burden. Not ever.”

-

“Come on, lets go to bed,” she says when her whole body starts to hurt from the hard stones under her, “We don't have to sleep, but I need to be somewhere more comfortable.”

She pulls him up with her, leads him back into the house and when he wants to make his way to his own bedroom she isn't even that surprised, only holds his hand tighter, makes him follow her. “I don't-” he begins with a shake of his head as they reach hers and Denver's bedroom door, but she interrupts him, “It's fine.”

He gives in, lets himself be guided to the bed where Denver is still sleeping soundly. She sits down in the middle, draws Rio in until he shakes his head and looks at her husband, “He won't be okay with it.”

“He will,” Stockholm objects and is weirdly sure of it, “Now, lie down, please.”

Rio hesitates for another few seconds then gets onto the mattress next to her. She smiles reassuringly, lies down as well. “Do you want me to hold you?” she asks.

“I don't think you should...” he mumbles and trails off.

“Do you _want_ me to?” she repeats her question and gets a nod in return. He looks nearly embarrassed and turns onto his side and therefore away from her. “It's okay,” she promises again and scoots closer, slings her arms around his body and feels him relax against her. “I'm here, I'm with you.”

At some point they both fall asleep.

-

She wakes up to being uncomfortably warm and sweaty, and when she opens her eyes she finds Rio lying with his head on her chest and Denver snuggled against her on the other side. Cautiously she tries to get away without waking either of them to go to her son who'll probably be up soon as well, but at her slightest movement Denver stirs. At first he seems confused, then jealous, the same ugly look he had in the Bank half of the time flashing over his face. “Is he okay?” he asks whispering after a few seconds, sounding indifferent.

“No,” she says as quietly as possible.

“What happened?” His facial features relax somewhat and the nervousness she felt upon him waking up settles slowly.

“I found him outside, hardly able to breathe. It was...” she shakes her head, only now realizing how much it has terrified her to see him like that again, “I'm afraid he thinks we want to get rid of him if he doesn't hide how bad he still is. And we won't.” The last words sound like a question and maybe they are.

“Of course, we won't,” Denver confirms, lets out a sigh and kisses her forehead. "What can we do?”

“I don't know,” she answers honestly and smiles despite the anger and pain she feels, suddenly reminded of why she fell in love with Denver in the first place _._

_-_

Rio tries to stay out of their way through the day, goes into his room right after they've shared a silent breakfast and doesn't leave it until it's time for dinner. They agreed on taking terms with the cooking and on eating together, mainly to establish some kind of routine, as much for themselves as for Cincinnati, and while Stockholm usually enjoys their shared meals this day proofs to be rather awkward.

“Lets watch a movie,” Denver suggest halfway during dinner.

Rio seems insecure, hasn't really looked either of them in the eye after he emerged from their bedroom this morning, and nods anyway.

She takes Cincinnati to bed, reads story after story to him until he falls asleep, and goes into the living-room where she finds Denver and Rio sitting on opposite ends of their couch. Sighing she settles down between them, but who is she to blame them, she isn't courageous enough to talk about last night either.

After the villain is established Denver places his arm around her and while she enjoys it, it feels less natural than it usually does. It's rather _exclusionary,_ she realizes and gives Rio sideways glances every few minutes. Even though the movie is obviously target towards families there are some loud and fast-cut scenes and soon she sees Rio squirm in his seat. At first she does her best to ignore the urge, but when he flinches badly upon the hero making a car explode she takes his hand into hers. He tries to pull it away, darts a scarred look at Denver which only makes her hold his hand tighter.

Even when she still was Mónica she had been stubborn, and after she got involved in a heist that started out with her being a hostage and ended with her being one of the robbers, that trait only intensified that much more. So sitting there and holding Rio's hand, who deserves none of the horrible things that happened to him in the last few months, Stockholm is ready to fight her husband if he decides to let out any of the jealous bullshit he said in the Bank.

In the end Denver surprises all of them by patting Rio's and her joined hands awkwardly and asking, “Should we put on something else?”

Rio shakes his head, taken aback. They continue watching the movie, huddled together, and Stockholm feels more comfortable than she did in a long time.

-

After the movie ended there is another moment of awkward silence and she feels both Denver and Rio tense next to her, her own mind starting to race with what she's supposed to do now. She doesn't want Rio to sleep in his own room, or whatever he does at night when those memories take hold of his body and no one is there to help him chase them away, however, while taking him to their bed seemed to be only sensible last night she sees what repeating this could possibly look like, possibly _mean_. Denver's words echo through her mind just like her own promise that they'll do their best to make it work, and that should be the priority, shouldn't it? Doing their best for them to be the family they had been _before_ , no more fighting, no more anger, no jealousy, and no pain. Naturally, there is no reason for Denver to be jealous, nonetheless she will understand it if he doesn't want to share _their_ bed with someone else. 

They should have talked about it this afternoon when they took a walk with Cincinnati, she scolds herself, but instead they chatted about nothing at all, both consciously avoiding the topic, and she can only guess that Denver had been just as afraid of it turning into a fight as she had been.

When she adverts her eyes from the credits rolling over the screen and looks at Denver she sees the same emotions, the same conflict on his face. _It's your decision,_ she tries to tell him, _I will do everything to help Rio, but I know I can't ask for this._

“I think,” Denver eventually says with a clearing of his throat, “We should go to bed, it has been... well. _All_ of us," he clearifies. 

Stockholm feels herself letting go of a breath she didn't know she was holding and next to her Rio scoots a few inches away like he's trying to hide the fact that he had been pressed against her side until now, “I don't... you don't-”

“Just come to bed,” Denver interrupts him who seems to feel as uncomfortable, and gets up without waiting for either of them to say anything else. Rio still looks hesitant and it takes Stockholm telling him it's alright to get up himself.

She finds Denver in their bathroom, about to brush his teeth, and she slings her arm around his middle, kisses his neck and mumbles, “Thank you.” He only smiles for an answer, and in the reflection it looks almost genuine.

-

They don't talk about it, none of them even mentions it, and nothing actually changes besides the fact that Rio sleeps in their bed. After that first night, well, second really, they hardly go to bed _together_ , most of the time Rio crawls under the covers at an unholy hour, waking Stockholm just enough for her to sling her arms around his body. He got back to his computers, sits in his room and does... _things._ Once, during dinner he tried to explain to Denver and her what he's working on, but neither of them really understood a word. Whatever he's doing there clams his restless mind, though, lets him apparently forget about the horrors and everything else around him, and if it weren't for the schedule they try to maintain and knocks on his door on various occasions he probably would forget to eat, as well.

And not just Rio gets better, her relationship with Denver turns more and more back into the way it has been in those two years they spent with getting to know each other, their son and parts of the world they've never dreamed of travelling to. Everything had been so exciting then, and with them slowly settling into their new home, their new _life_ , they find the time to explore this beautiful country, trying to forgot about their fighting, the pain and all those unspoken things between them. 

Objectively she's aware that they _should_ be talking about Rio, about the fact that he's sleeping in their bed, about the way she enjoys to hold him and sometimes misses his closeness when he sits at his computer until the early hours of the morning. And they're certainly should be talking about the strange looks Denver gives Rio sometimes when he thinks she isn't watching and she doesn't know what to make out of.

However, they are happier than they've been in a long time so she doesn't dare to address any of it. 

-

Of course, there are bad nights. At times Rio crawls into their bed shivering, unable to breathe and a look of shame on his face that is somehow worse than his panic. On those nights Stockholm holds him especially tight, kisses his forehead and whispers into his ear that he's safe all over again, and waits for him to fall asleep or for morning to come. Mostly it's the latter. She's aware that Denver is awake during most of it, even though he keeps his eyes shut and his mouth closed. Maybe he tries to ignore the fact that his wife is holding another man, that some part of Rio is _broken_ despite him seemingly getting better by the day, and this ignorance makes her as grateful as it makes her angry. 

The worst nights are the ones Rio comes to bed looking nearly _content_ just to wake up a few short hours later with a scream, tears already streaming down his face. She's usually able to bring him back from where-ever his treacherous mind takes him rather fast, but as soon as he falls into a restless sleep again she flees their bed and runs for the bathroom, bile already rising in her throat.

It's Denver who does the soothing on those nights, who takes her into his arms and kisses her, whispers how much he loves her and that everything _will be alright_. Sometimes she isn't too sure about that.

-

Ever since they've left the Bank Rio stopped talking about what has happened to him and while Stockholm is convinced it would be for the best if he did, she's awfully glad he doesn't. She hates herself for it.

“We can't fix him,” Denver says one day out of the blue, sounding defeated.

“I know.”

“Maybe we should... there must be someone who can, though. A shrink, therapy, whatever. It can't go on like that, Ican't bear to see him like that any more. I don't,” he shakes his head, “I don't understand how anyone could to something like that.”

She does neither and probably never will.

-

That night she is the one waking up from a nightmare, she doesn't remember what it was about, but her shirt is soaked and her hands are trembling. She gets up and takes a long shower, tries to flush the bad thoughts down the drain just like the sweat that is covering her body. When she creeps back into the bedroom, quietly as possible, she finds Rio lying in Denver's arms, looking as wrecked as she has felt only a few minutes ago. Denver on the other hand looks nearly helpless, obviously mimicking the same movements she does when Rio woke up like that.

She stops in her tracks when she sees those two like that and a feeling she can't name starts to spread inside her body. While Rio is too far gone to realize she came back Denver's gaze lands on her. It's apologetic _,_ and suddenly she's able to identify this strange feeling: she's _jealous._ She wants to cry and wants to laugh because after all Denver has been right, this thing with Rio isn't _innocent,_ probably never has been. A low chuckles escapes her lips and she sees Denver raising an eye brow.

Shaking her head slightly she lies back down in their bed on Rio's other side and slings her arms around him as well, places her hand on Denver shoulder and strokes the naked skin. The most ridiculous thing about this is that she doesn't even know whom she's more jealous of.

-

Once again they don't mention it, go through their day as if nothing changed, and maybe nothing _did_ change, maybe it has been only Stockholm who was blind. Under the light of the day the jealousy leaves her, as sudden as it came, and it doesn't come back either when she wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Rio between Denver and herself again, rolled into a ball, sound asleep and with Denver's hand on his neck. The sight is weirdly familiar despite the newness of the situation, and with the thought still on her mind she falls back to sleep.

Rio leaves his room outside the meals and the few hours of sleep more often after that, sometimes even accompanies them on their trips. It's like a spell has been broken and only now it dawns on her that Rio probably stayed deliberately out of their way until Denver started to show his acceptance in the way he holds Rio every night, as well. When they visit one of the National Parks she slings her arms around Rio's waist and kisses his cheek. “We are so glad that you're with us,” she tells him.

Later, when she watches him and Denver laughing and joking with each other while they try to teach Cincinnati how to play football, she realizes how true those words are.

-

After some research and getting in touch with the Professor she finds a therapist who's willing to work via video-chat and doesn't ask any questions as long as they pay him enough, which obviously doesn't pose as a problem. She didn't talk with Rio about it, though, too afraid he'll think they are _annoyed_ by him, or worse, try to get rid of him. However, when she finds him sitting outside, obviously unable to get any air into his lungs again, and is painfully reminded of the first time she found him like that and the anger she felt then towards herself for not seeing the extent of his pain sooner, she gulps down the fear and says, “There is someone who might be able to help. He's a specialist and you could talk to him.”

“I can't tell anyone about this, they will find us. They will-” he starts to protest and she takes his face between her hands, tries to stroke the worried lines from it.

“They won't, everything is taken care of. I promise you no one will get to you. I just want- I want you to be better.“

“Yes,” he says with a weak voice, “Me too.”

-

Rio kisses Denver first and it doesn't come as that big of a surprise as it probably should. They are watching a movie, sitting on their bed with Rio in the middle, and neither of the men pay too much attention to the mix of drama and comedy Stockholm chose. She doesn't mind, enjoys the flick while listening to their banter with one ear from time to time, and realizes that something in the light-hearted atmosphere shifted when it's strangely quiet all of the sudden. She turns her head to the side, just in time to see Rio place his lips onto Denver's. It's a short kiss, nothing more than a peck on the lips, and she expects to see some form of shock in Denver's eyes, anger maybe, instead he looks ashamed.

 _She_ should probably be angry, jealous, wonder about her husband's sexuality and whether this really has been the first time the two have kissed, but she finds herself smiling when Rio turns to her, showing the look on his face she actually expected from Denver.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“It's okay,” she says, still smiling, “Everything is alright.”

She doesn't know who leans in first, is only certain of the wonderful feeling of Rio's lips against hers. It starts out just as innocent and then there is a tongue and a moan and her skin burning with desire. She lets her hand slip under his shirt, touches him like she did countless of times and like she never did before. At some point she hears Denver laugh, lets go of Rio to look at him and finds him radiating the same happiness she feels right now.

When she watches Denver reclaiming Rio's lips, kissing him as deep and desperate as she did only seconds ago, she realizes that this is probably where they were heading all along.

-

They go slow because it's what they have done these past few months and there seems to be no reason to suddenly rush into it. They share kisses in- and outside of the bedroom, lingering touches and loving glances. A part of Stockholm still waits for Denver to get jealous, for _herself_ to get jealous, but it never comes, instead she feels as madly in love as she did when she met him for the first time, just that they both love another man now, as well. Sometimes she gets hit by a wave of shame, though, thoughts of ' _wrong_ ' and ' _abnormal_ ' going through her head, but then she reminds herself that they were part of two of the biggest heist in history and they'll be on the run for the rest of their lives.

“So who cares about normal,” she muses when Rio shares similar thoughts with them.

“I surely never did,” Denver laughs and that's that.

-

When they have sex for the first time Rio is nearly shy, doesn't dare to touch either of them below the navel and in the end just watches them finishing each other off. After that he gets braver, though, just as Stockholm realizes how much she has missed this, since she and Denver did sleep with each other more or less regularly, but always fast and nearly hesitant, fearing they would be interrupted, however, now they have time and don't need to wait for the right moment. In fact Stockholm finds herself waking up aroused and throbbing nearly every morning, and taking the way Denver and Rio respond to her touches into account they probably feel the same.

It's on one of those mornings when Rio eventually rolls a condom onto his erection and asks for her permission before sinking into her. They're lying on their sides, slowly moving against each other, while Denver is pressed against her back, arms slung around both of them. She never felt that warm, and safe, and _loved,_ and when she cums it feels earth-shaking.

-

"Being alone with the fear, with the pain, with my _thoughts,_ that was the worst. Worse than everything else they ever did to me," Rio tells them in a hushed voice one night when Denver is still buried inside of him and Stockholm is cradling his head, "I didn't think anyone would ever touch me again."

She wants to cry, but it feels unfair since it's not her who went through this, who had to suffer beyond what anyone could ever imagine.

"We won't let go of you," Denver promises, "Not ever."


	6. Nairobi/Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Berlin's laugh grows even louder and maybe it wasn't the most sensible thing to do, talking to him like that, but unfortunately she was never known for the ability to think before she opened her mouth. “Getting myself together? I'm the most 'together' I have been my whole life, Nairobi. You see, looking death right into the eye makes you realize a thing a or two.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request was Nairobi/Andrés and _" I don't have any special request, but I'm in for the smut xD"_ , so smut it is :D  
>  **Pairing:** Nairobi/Berlin  
>  **Chapter warnings/tags:** Unprotected Sex, Swearing, Berlin being Berlin, Smut, Mentions of Violence

When the _Inspectora_ speaks those words, her anxious mask slipping to reveal the wide grin she hid underneath probably ever since she came through those doors, and Nairobi's first instinct is to laugh. _Nice try,_ she wants to say, remembering Berlin's anger and his hands on her when she accused him of being a fucking rapist. Of course, the police would use this chance to spread even more lies, a pitiful attempt to make them turn on each other. As if they needed external help for that. But the _Inspectora_ doesn't stop there, says Berlin only has two months left to live, and now it's getting _ridiculous_.

Then she notice the look on his face, unlike anything she saw there before. He's angry, yes, but there is something else, as well; disbelief, _terror._

“Is that true?” Tokyo demands, seemingly as confused as Nairobi herself.

And then Berlin is gone, storming off, and she stays where she is, bewildered, searches for a sign on the _Inspectora's_ face that she lied again, but the only thing Nairobi finds there is a satisfied grin, so she sets off to run after him. He went up the stairs, but she loses his trail there and decides to go to the director's office since that seems to be what Berlin sees himself as now; the fucking _director_ of their little heist.

The women are still there, flinching when Nairobi slams the door open. She counts them while passing the couch they're huddled on, but isn't sure how many they were to begin with, and thankfully, it's only Berlin whom she finds in the small room behind the next door.

Her throat hurts in the memory of his hands around it not even a few hours ago and she feels uneasy with the fact that he was then, while clearly being angry, still _in control,_ this Berlin, however, doesn't has any control left from the look of it. His hands are shaking heavily, his eyes are wide, and for a moment Nairobi is sure he stopped breathing. She has never seen him like that, and if she didn't know it was him, she wouldn't recognize this face as his'. _He's going to wreak havoc,_ a low, unsettling voice says in the back of her mind. 

“Berlin,” she says, trying to sound as soothing as possible.

“What do you want?” he spits out, flinching like he only now noticed her being there. 

While raising her hands she gets slowly closer, one hesitant step after the other, as if she's nearing a feral animal. “So, it's true?”

The huff that leaves his lips nearly makes her turn around and leave immediately, but she takes a calming breath and walks until she stops right in front of him. Being so close to him she suddenly recognizes the emotion she saw on his face in the entrance hall; he's _frightened. "_ Oh, it's certainly _true_ even though I do wonder how she found out, if our dearest _Professor_ told her about it.”

He knew? It doesn't make any sense. How could this _mastermind_ send someone in who's got only a few weeks left to live? Wasn't the main reason he had choosen any one of them that this heist was their only chance, that they were willing to do whatever it'll take for the plan to succeed because their life will be over otherwise? This, however, isn't true for a man who's going to die anyway, who's probably only here for the hell of it.

“Berlin,” she mumbles, unable to find the right words to bring him back from whatever state of mind the fucking _Inspectora_ send him in to. 

“I don't want your pity, Nairobi. I can't stand it when people act like I am in need of it just because I remind them of their own pathetic mortality.”

“I'm not pitying you,” she says and realizes in the same moment that she _does._ He's every minute, every second aware that he'll be dead soon. Sure, in their business is always a possibility, but for him it's a _certainty_ , and she can't even begin to fathom what it must be like.

He seems to see right through the lie, lips parting into an ugly grin, his eyes wandering to her neck, and for the split of the second she's positive he'll finish what he started earlier, but instead he laughs. “Let us hope they won't arrest you, your poker-face is _shit._ ”

“She said that one of ten is healed by whatever it is you're taking, and you'll be crazy rich soon. So-”

“What is that you want exactly?” he interrupts her, and while his voice is back to normal she sees his hands are still shaking, “If I remember correctly, there is still a heist going on, you're probably needed _somewhere_.”

She doesn't even think about it before she says, “I want _all_ of us to get out of here, and I won't let you ruin everything just because you think you don't have anything left to live for, that you rather go down with a _bang_ than in a fucking hospital bed. So, get yourself together!”

His laugh grows even louder and maybe it wasn't the most sensible thing to do, talking to him like that, but unfortunately she never was known for ability to think before she opened her mouth. “Getting myself together? I'm the most ' _together_ ' I have been my whole life, Nairobi. You see, looking death right into the eye makes you realize a thing a or two.”

“Yes? Then how comes you nearly fucked everything up, huh? If Denver got through with this order of yours, you know what would have happened then? The police would get ready to storm _right this moment_ because a fucking hostage would _be dead_. I don't care what it is that you realized as long as you start to follow the Professor's orders!”

“Believe me, getting all of us and the money out of here is my first priority.”

“Yes? Than start to act like it. Fuck!” She takes his face between her hands as if this will make her capable of seeing through him, “Why are you doing this? You... if you're really going to die in a few months from now, why are you _here_?”

“We all have our reasons to be here, don't we?” he sneers, and instead of shaking her off he gets closer, so close that they're nearly sharing a breath, “Tell me, is there a way to feel more alive than printing your own money while countless of guns are pointed right to the back of your head.”

This time it's her turn to laugh and she lets her hands fall from his cheeks, “You're so full of shit.”

“Am I? I choked you and, still, you're here, trying to provoke me. No one would hear you scream. I could just,” he places his hands on her neck, cautiously like she's something fragile, stroking the skin with his thumbs, “ _squeeze._ So, I'll ask you again; what do you want?”

She doesn't feel threatened, on the contrary, what _he_ wants is obvious, , and it's far from killing her. Of course, she has thought about it, how _couldn't_ she? He might be a fucking misogynistic, crazy pig, but he's stupidly attractive and the way he's aware of it and _shows off_ every chance given only enhances it. And she caught him starring, hungry eyes on her tits and ass, but neither of them ever acknowledged it because _no personal relationship._ Now, he's so close that it only takes either of them leaning in a few centimetres for their lips to meet, and she nearly forgets about rule number one. _Nearly,_ “I want to make sure you don't do anything imprudent just because that _bitch_ fucked with you. She thinks she got you riled up with her lies about those girls, and that we're going to turn on you, but it's not true and you _know_ that.”

“How very sweet of you,” the hands that were placed around her neck until now slowly wander down her chest.

“ _Berlin_ ,” it's supposed to be a warning, but he squeezes her breasts right this moment and it turns out to be more of a moan than anything else.

“When you're told you've only got a limited amount of time left to you start to see some things differently. People, whom you'd never looked twice at before, suddenly spark your interest and you realizes that there is no point in _following the rules_ ,” he grins, wide, completely back to his normal, asshole-self, and despite the insult she feels relieved about it. Well, it's hard to pay any mind to his words when his hands are currently on her overall, unzipping it in a slow, deliberate movement.

“That's a fucking horrible idea,” she notes and doesn't even convince herself.

“Is it?” he asks with the raise of an eyebrow and strips the red fabric from her shoulders.

 _Fuck it,_ she slings her arms around his neck and kisses him in a desperate meeting of lips against lips. It's sloppy, with too much teeth and tongue, and she doesn't even begin to care since her whole body _burns_ with the sensation. His hands grope her ass, pull her in until she's pressed against him, and she's able to feel his growing dick against her hip. The cut she gave him earlier is prominent against her skin when he starts to suck down her neck, and she wants nothing more than to place a second one there when he reacts to another moan leaving her mouth with a chuckle.

“Get out of this fucking overall,” she growls and frees herself of him.

Again, he laughs, but does as he's told, nonetheless. She leans down to unfasten her boots and only got rid of the first one when she's suddenly faced with his hard cock. He didn't even bother with his shirt, the overall lies pooled around his feet, and she doesn't get the chance to comment his _eagerness_ , since there is a hand on her neck pulling her in. “You're perfect down there.”

Part of her wants to tell him to _go fuck himself_ , but she always got off on being manhandled, and so she only swats his hand away for good measurement and leans in herself, holding his hips in a bruising grip. He tastes somewhat sweaty and she still hums lowly because it's been six months, _goddamnit._ The asshole of course laughs again, but this time she gets him to shut up by swallowing his dick to the hilt.

She works her head up and down his length for a minute or so, enjoys how he slowly but steadily loses his composure and lets go of him with one and in order to slip it into her panties. The embarrassing amount of wetness between her legs makes her aware of the fact that it's been a while since she came, as well, and probably won't last too long. Taking the noises Berlin's already makes in he's in a similar condition and she's just about to let go of his dick when he takes hold of her shoulders and pulls her up.

“Enough,” he growls like _she_ was the one who wanted to suck him off. 

“Finally ready to fuck me?” she asks and tries to sound as mockingly as possible while she frees her naked foot from the overall and panties.

He shoves her slightly and it comes so unexpected the she stumbles back and lands with her ass on the desk. The grin on his face indicates this is exactly what he wanted and she spreads her legs automatically to make room for him. “Are you?” he asks and slips three fingers into her without any warning.

She howls because the fucker didn't even had the decency to place them over one another, instead he starts to scissor them as soon as they're inside of her and it _hurts._ It feels fucking _amazing_. Arching her back she takes hold of his neck, pulls him in until he's bend over her body. “Fuck me already, I don't have all day.”

With one last twist he _finally_ replaces his fingers with his dick, entering her in the same fast and careless motion as before. “No need to be so impatient,” he says with a sly smile and snaps his hips forward.

She meets his thrust, places one hand behind herself for better leverage, and claws into the skin of his neck to ensure he _won't stop_. Sometimes, while getting herself off, she fantasized about the people in their little team and she always imagined Berlin as someone who holds back during sex, instead he now moans into the skin of her neck loud and filthy while he fucks her relentlessly, and for a moment she wonders if he's doing it for their _audience_ in the next room. The thought is weirdly arousing and she feels herself growing louder with every of his thrusts.

When the pleasure gets nearly unbearable and she realizes she won't be able to cum from his dick alone she places her hand between them and starts to rub her clit. Like he only waited for that he snaps his hips forward unbelievably faster and all of the sudden she feels his dick pulsing inside of her.

“Fuck you!” she hisses when he stops his movements, leaving her hanging right on the edge. Taking the look on his face in he did it on purpose.

“Don't worry,” he laughs, “I'm not _that_ selfish.”

She doubts it, however, he still pulls his dick out and continues to fuck her with his fingers. Before he can change her mind again she resumes with rubbing her clit as well, and within a few seconds she's cumming, clenching hard around him.

“You got me all wet,” he complains mockingly when she caught her breath and presses his indeed slick fingers against her mouth. Instantly, she parts her lips, lets them slip in and tries to tell herself she doesn't like it. She tastes herself and his sperm, only now realizing that he didn't use a condom and that she took the pill irregularly _at best_ for the last few weeks and he didn't even ask about it. Maybe the prospect of dying soon made him change his mind about impregnating women, after all, fearing that there will be nothing left of him when he's gone.

The thought makes a sick feeling spread inside of her, and she clasps his wrist to pull his fingers out of her mouth. There is the need to say something stupid along the lines of ' _you won't be forgotten_ ', but he probably wouldn't appreciate it so she kisses him. It's weirdly _sweet_ and it doesn't help to fight bad feeling in her stomach, at all.

“No more adverting from the plan,” she reminds him when they're letting go of each other, somewhat breathlessly, “No more killing hostages, or anyone for that matter.”

“Did you give me your body to make _submissive_?”

“Shut up, you son of a bitch,” she growls and pokes a finger into his chest, “I was serious when I said I wanted all of us to get out of here and that includes _you_. So, we'll get back out there, you threaten the hostages, or whatever it is that you do, and I'll print some money and then we fucking _leave_.”

“Sounds like a solid plan to me,” he states, that stupid, arrogant smile back on his face like nothing ever happened, like he didn't nearly lose it a few minutes ago, like he isn't _fucking dying_.

“Good,” she says and gets up to put her clothes back on, suddenly not wanting to be in one room with him any second longer.

She'll get him out of here, she tells herself over and over again while making her way back downstairs, she won't let him destroy everything they've worked for just because he's fucking _afraid_ and when they're all out of here, and finally _safe,_ there will be a way to ensure he's the one out of ten.

Two days later she hits Berlin with her gun so hard that he falls down unconscious since of- _fucking_ -course he didn't listen to her, and got not justTokyo arrested but nearly shot Rio, as well. She is shaking with anger when he wakes up again and looks at her confused but already with that stupid smile back on his face.

“I'm still getting you out of here, asshole,” she growls.

He only laughs.


	7. (female)Rio/Tokyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rio takes another drag of her cigarerret before asking, “Since when do you know you like both?” - “Oh, I didn't know until I met you. You and your cute face,” Tokyo smiles and Rio feels her heart missing a beat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This show needs some lesbians and this is literally the only way I would have cared about the whole Rio/Tokyo story. It started out as a small idea and then it escalated quickly. Ooops. However, I had major fun writing it.  
> Feel always free to message me if you've got a request, I'm totally shameless, I write about _anything_ :D  
> (As you might have already realized)  
>  **Pairing** : Rio/Tokyo  
>  **Chapter tags/warnings** : female!Rio, Always a Different Sex, AU, Rewrite, Post-Canon, (mentioned) Sex, (mentioned) Torture, (briefly mentioned) Suicidal Thoughts

Later, Rio will say it was love at the first sight, that she fell head over heels when she walked into that classroom and her eyes landed on Tokyo. It's not a complete lie (how can you look at Tokyo and _not_ fall at least a little bit in love with her?), but when Rio sits down at her desk she feels mostly _intimidated_. Not just that Tokyo is older and breathtakingly beautiful, the way she lounges in her chair, sly smile on her red painted lips, makes it obvious that she's aware of what an effect she has on other people, and women like her _never_ even look at Rio. Thus, you could say she is more than surprised when Tokyo turns around at one point during their first lesson and fucking _winks_ at her.

-

Rio sticks with Denver because he comes closest to her age and doesn't seem to belong here just as she does. “Shouldn't you have tattoos and piercings and black hair and shit?” he asks her on day three during dinner.

Genuinely confused she shakes her head and when she doesn't say anything he adds, “Like Lisbeth Salander, you know.”

Berlin starts to laugh at that and before Rio can open her mouth or start to feel uncomfortable Nairobi places a light slap on the back of Denver's head, “That's really sexist, you idiot.”

“Ouch, how is that sexist?”

It ends with Nairobi monologuing about women being a ' _hacker_ ' without looking like a stereotype _'too much movies and porn_ ' gave him about them, and ' _no_ ' it's not okay to call her _'hacker-girl_ ', either. She is just about to thank Nairobi for the defence, because otherwise she would have probably let Denver call her that just to avoid him thinking of her as annoying, when Tokyo leans over to whispers into her ear, “Sure, you're not hiding a tattoo somewhere under that shirt.”

She is still struggling which what she's supposed to say to that when Tokyo's already back to laughing over Nairobi's imitation of Denver like nothing has happened.

-

The thing is, she is aware that everyone thinks about her as just that: _hacker-girl_. And they aren't even wrong, are they? While she doesn't know any details about their previous lives it's obvious that they've all spent the majority of it either doing something illegal or being in prison, and Rio just doesn't fit in. Sure, she was part of this sloppy executed robbery, but her involvement has been more of an _accident_ , and after that she didn't even spend a fortnight in juvenile prison. On top of that, her lack of experience seems to be so apparent that she feels irritated and downright _accusing_ looks on her more and more often, so she tries to keep her head low and to not give them any more reasons to want her out of this.

-

Tokyo comes to her room one night without even waiting for her knock to be answered. “I'm bored,” she groans and falls down onto to the bed where Rio is sitting, book in her hands. They start to talk about nothing and everything, and Rio is rather proud of herself that her answers come naturally and that she even makes Tokyo laugh a few times. Taking into account that they've spoken three sentences at most with each other on a normal day it's astonishing. She even tries her best not to stare at Tokyo, but fails miserably since she can't keep her eyes of the flawless, smooth skin, the few centimetres that are visible of her _ripped_ stomach, and her cleavage, which proofs to be especially distracting because even in the dimly lit room it's more than obvious that Tokyo didn't bother with a bra.

-

When she comes back to Rio's room two night later it's with a mischievous grin, “I'm so cold, can I lie down with you?”

Rio wants to say that maybe she could put some clothes on, but then there is _Tokyo with her under the blanket_ , not wearing more than shorts and a sleeveless shirt, so close that they are nearly pressed together. “You don't seem cold,” she settles for because Tokyo practically _radiates_ heat.

“Oh, but I am,” comes the giggled answer, followed by an arm that slings itself around her chest.

“I'm a lesbian,” Rio says since it seems only fair to let Tokyo know, to give her the chance to run _without_ calling Rio a creep. Hopefully.

Instead she gets another laugh, “I know, I feel your eyes on me, Rio.”

“I'm sorry.” And she really is, it's unprofessional and disgusting to stare at a person just because you find them unfairly attractive, and she knows she did fuck it up last night.

“Don't be, I like it,” suddenly there is a finger tracing one of her nipples, than pinching it ever so slightly, “Do you like that, too?”

“Yes,” Rio moans, even though it feels unnecessary to confirm it verbally.

“Good,” Tokyo says and kisses her.

So that's that.

-

“What about rule number one?” Rio asks when Tokyo comes back to her room once again and starts to pull on Rio's sweatpants.

“This is no more personal than any relationship I have with the others. It's just sex.”

It hurts to hear it out loud, even though she anticipated it since she's aware that women like Tokyo don't fall in love with women like her, and she should be grateful that there is a continuation to their previous make-out session, that it hasn't been merely _a joke_. However, there is still something she wanted to get off her chest ever since first unexpected kiss, “I'm a virgin.”

Tokyo lets out a huff before saying, “Fuck, you're serious, aren't you? But how?”

Being a twenty years old virgin is an information Rio would rather have kept for herself, but the only thing that will be more embarrassing than admitting to it now, is to pretend to have experience just to reveal the lack therefore when she doesn't know what to do right in the middle of sex. With heat rising into her cheeks Rio says, “Well, I made out with a few people, and I gave my then _boyfriend_ a blow job, which was horrible for both of us. It's just hard to find another girl who's queer when you live in a catholic village.”

“Don't worry,” Tokyo smiles and places a soft kiss against her lips, “There is _so much_ I'm going to show you.”

-

Sex with Tokyo comes as easily as talking to her did. “Get yourself off for me,” is what Tokyo told her that first night. It felt weird in the beginning, but then Rio started to enjoy the way she was being watched and eventually came harder than she ever did before. That was at least until Tokyo used her tongue to get Rio off a second time and for a moment she had been certain she would pass out from it.

Sometimes, the sex feels like an extention to their daily lessons with the way Tokyo guides her hands and tongue and tells her how to please both of them best, and when Rio voices those thoughts Tokyo grins and returns the next evening in clothes that she might have stolen from the Professor. (Turns out she _did_ steal them from him, and Rio nearly chokes when he asks them over breakfast if one of them has seen his jacket.) That night Tokyo bends her over the bed, tells her she was a _naughty girl_ and fucks her so hard with her fingers that Rio is sure they heard her moaning even in the next village.

-

They have a shooting lesson and Rio's ability to hit the mark is _non existent_ . She spent so many hours playing video games that she thought it wouldn't be too hard, but it turns out that firing a _real gun_ is something different entirely. It doesn't help either that the lesson itself makes her _nervous_ Of course, she's aware that she's going to carry a gun and might has to use it, but it always felt so far away, unreal even. Now, holding the heavy weapon in her (ever so slightly trembling) hands she realizes that there might come a point when she'll be forced to shoot someone, potentially _kill them_ in the process, and she's unsure if she'll be able to get through with it.

“Come on, I'll show you,” Helsinki says who suddenly appeared next to her. He talks her through it, shows her in which angel she has to hold her arms and how she can support her shaky hands. He's so gentle and soft that it's hard to believe he learned this in war, that he _did_ what she's so afraid of doing.

“Thanks,” she says when she's finally able to at least hit the slight disc they're aiming for.

“The world is already bad enough to people like us, we need to stick together.”

She raises a brow in confusion, but then he flashes her a bright and suggestive grin and she feels herself return it.

(Rio remembers this smile when Berlin orders she needs to be _punished_ for her fuck-up with the phone. While Oslo beats her and she is unable to breath through the pain her eyes land on Helsinki who merely stands there and watches. He opens his mouth then, says it's enough and Oslo listens. After, he brings her a cool-pack and says he's sorry. It's a rather strange way to _stick together._ )

-

“Really, you and Tokyo?” Denver asks when they are standing outside during a short break.

“How do you know?” she whispers and takes a look around to make certain no one is listening.

“Man, you were _loud_ last night, not that I'm complaining, if you know what I mean,” he says with a suggestive grin and Rio feels her cheeks heating in embarrassment.

“Why would you tell me something like that?!”

“If you could see your face,” he then states with a laugh, “Don't worry, I didn't listen nor did I _do_ anything afterwards. I just walked past the door. I knew Tokyo was fucking _someone_ , but I thought it's Berlin or Oslo.”

Now, she's perplexed, “You think it's more likely that she's fucking Oslo than me? Why? Because I'm not in her league?”

“No one here is in Tokyo's league,” he claims (and isn't _wrong_ , is he?), “I just didn't know she's a lesbian, that's all. Nothing personal, didn't want to hurt you.” He claps her shoulder and she doesn't even correct him, afraid she has to explain the concept of bisexuality to him.

-

This _relationship_ , _affair_ , _whatever_ seems to make her rather confident and careless, since after weeks of trying to attract as less attention as possible Rio forgets about it when she's alone with the Professor to arrange the technology and begins to _talk._ On the car ride back to Toledo he then says that he's deeply sorry, but he made a mistake and he won't be allowed to set a foot into the Mint, and part of her is _glad._

She doesn't say anything to it, only stares out of the window. She was aware that the Professor made a mistake by choosing her ever since she met the rest of the team, and the deal he now _offers_ her is the best she could have hoped for; she has to stay with them until everything is over and then she'll either gets one million euros, or, if the plan fails ( _“This won't happen, Rio, I can ensure that.”_ ) she'll get nothing, however, her affiliation with the group won't be traceable so that she'll at least be free.

Really, it's a win-win situation for her, if it weren't for Tokyo. Clever, funny, beautiful, perfect Tokyo, who makes Rio's heart beat faster with every word she speaks, every touch she places on her skin, and who Rio will never see again if she doesn't go into the Mint.

When she enters Tokyo's room that night she is determined to not say a word, but then Tokyo smiles and the way she kisses Rio feels like she missed her, as well, and then she is already repeating what the Professor said earlier.

It takes Tokyo no five minutes to convince him to let Rio stay, and she's so happy that she doesn't even care that she gave up her chance to a way out for a relationship that will never be.

-

“When did you know you're gay?” Tokyo asks her one night while they're sitting outside, sharing a cigarette and a bottle of wine.

“I don't know,” Rio shrugs, “Always, I guess. Never cared for boys, then I saw two women kissing on TV and I knew I wanted that,” she takes another drag before asking, “Since when do you know you like both?”

“Oh, I didn't know until I met you. You and your cute face,” Tokyo smiles and Rio feels her heart missing a beat. This is the closest she ever got to an ' _I love you_ '.

-

It's the evening before the heist and she's scared shitless so she goes to Tokyo in her panic and asks her to marry her when all of this is over because she needs _something,_ anything to make her feel that _it will be alright_.

Of course, Tokyo says no, and for the first time Rio regrets that she didn't just follow the Professor's orders when he said she was out.

-

Being alone with Berlin is always uncomfortable and especially so when he uses it to pry on her. He has always been looking at Rio with a glinting in his eyes that made her lock the door to her bedroom for the first week of her stay in Toledo because she was afraid he would come in to rape and kill her (as if a piece of wood would stop him from doing that). However, she soon realized that Berlin wouldn't do such thing, that he was merely amused by the fact how little Rio belonged there. He saw right from the beginning how _weak_ she was and Rio is certain that it would take him less than ten seconds to have her crying to his feet if he ever wanted to, all of that by merely speaking a few words.

Now, not even ten hours into the heist, he takes her aside, and places a hand on her shoulder, nearly like they're _friends_ , “Let me tell you something about women, Rio.”

They sit down and she listens while Berlin seemingly doesn't care about anything that is going on around them, instead he gives a speech similar to countless others he gave before and she thankfully only ever witnessed marginally. When he starts to talk about pregnant women she has had enough, is _desperate_ to get away from him, “You realize that I can't impregnate Tokyo, do you?”

“Oh, sweet Rio, you really think that Tokyo will stay with you? Poor thing.”

No, she doesn't, and taking the way he laughs in he sees right through her.

-

The Professor's most impressive achivement surely is that he was able to convince a bunch of people that they could walk in and out of the Mint and nothing will go wrong, that he has taken every eventuality into account, that it will be _easy_ to print 2.4 billion euros. It has all been a lie and Rio just wants to go back to that house in Toledo where she spent the happiest five months of her life.

-

“I don't have a daughter any more,” her father says on live TV, and even though she tries to fight it Rio feels the tears fall down her face she held back ever since the night before they went into this hellhole. Her mother says a few other words, but she doesn't really hear them, and before she can bring herself to focus again someone turns the TV off.

The atmosphere is heavy, _awkward_ , so Rio only chuckles and says, “This really gets boring, you know, he said the same thing when I told him I was gay, and then when I got arrested.”

It's Moscow who kneels down in front of her and takes her face between his huge hands. “This man doesn't deserve to be your father, a parent loves his child no matter what,” he whips the still falling tears from her cheeks, “And we _do_ love you, all of us.”

The laugh that escapes from her lips nearly sounds hysteric, but it doesn't matter because Moscow looks at her with his kind eyes and she believes him.

(In a few days he will be dead and when she holds Denver in her arms it feels like she lost yet another father.)

-

She fights with Tokyo all the time and it's rather stupid, considering where they are right now, but with every passing hour Rio feels like she loses the ability to think clearly even more. When she gets another video from parents and the _Inspectora_ offers her a way out she think about it for one second, imagines herself waking up from this nightmare and going back to her boring life. It's a wonderful thought, and it's fucking _hard_ to tell them off, to let go of this one last straw.

The anger in Tokyo's eyes, the way she says she'll kill Rio if she ever ratted them out (she says it like she means it, like she wouldn't even bat an eye before she'll pull the trigger) doesn't help to make her feel better. Not at all.

-

Berlin finally breaks her by strapping Tokyo to a table and kicking her out, right into the police's claws and Rio _slips_. The Professor fuelled her mind with speeches about billions of euros and being fucking _Robin Hood,_ about all of them getting out of this _alive_. But this is not what is happening. This is _war_ , and Rio's on the losing side either way. The moment she opens her mouth in front of the hostages she knows it's a mistake, however, she is too angry to even begin to care, and no five minutes later Berlin has her in an empty room, gun pointing at her head.

“She is girl, Berlin, leave her,” Helsinki says, but doesn't do anything to stop Berlin.

The thing is, Rio thought she would be ready to accept death when it came, that the last five months prepared her for this moment. Of course, this isn't true, and she screams at Berlin, tries to tell him what a _worthless pig_ he is, and when it doesn't help she _begs_.

Nairobi comes in, shouts something Rio doesn't understand, and then Berlin pulls the trigger. She goes down, waits for the pain to come, sees Tokyo's smile and feels her arms around her body, is suddenly safe in her embrace.

But that are Denver's and not Tokyo's arms, and she isn't dead.

-

“I love you,” Tokyo says in their hideout, and Rio nearly doesn't understand her over all the shots being fired, “I love you, I love you so much.”

Rio wants to laugh because _of course_ Tokyo says those words in a moment like that, and while Rio wants nothing more than to be _fucking-finally_ on the other side of the tunnel, she positive she'll die as the happiest person on earth if they won't get out of this after all.

-

They are about to part ways and Rio sees the same unshed tears in the other's eyes she is holding back herself. _“Those are the best friends I ever had,”_ Tokyo told her and only now Rio is aware of how right she has been.

“You have to start standing up for yourself,” Nairobi urges and kisses her cheeks, “You got through this fucking shit, a heart-break won't kill you.”

Rio doesn't know what to say, feels a lump building in her throat, because she and Nairobi never talked much and now she uses their last minutes together to tell her that she doesn't believe in the success of Rio's relationship. “Hey, hey,” Nairobi says and shakes her shoulder slightly, “I don't mean that she _will_ leave you, but relationships fail all the time and you can't depend solely on another person to be happy.”

“You're crap at goodbyes, Nairobi,” Rio answers because what else are you supposed to say to that?

-

“Rio, I'm bored,” it's playful and they're both smiling at the callback to the first night they've spend together. (Well, of course nothing really happened then, but Rio likes to imagine it as the day the seeds for their relationship were planted.) And while it's clearly meant as a joke she sees something else in Tokyo's eyes, something close to _melancholy_ , and Rio bites her tongue so that she doesn't ask, ' _Am I not enough for you?_ ', afraid of what the answer will be.

Days blur into weeks, and weeks into months and Rio enjoys _floating_ through time, to do what she wants without paying mind to what will be tomorrow. Tokyo finds her passion for book, which is surprising for both of them, and they begin to read the most remarkable ones they've found, the good and the bad, out loud. It's ridiculously funny, sometimes even romantic, and other times one eats the other out while she has to keep talking in order to _earn_ her orgasm.

“It was all worth it,” Rio says one day and only gets a short kiss in return.

-

Five months in exchange for a lifetime in wealth and extravagance, that has been the deal. For Rio that lifetime narrows down to not even three years, though, and she feels _cheated._

_-_

The first time it happens Rio thinks she died. She's standing and she doesn't know for how long or if she's asleep or awake, and sometimes there are muffled noises and then there aren't, and all of the sudden she hears a voice right in her ear. “Poor thing, you really thought Tokyo would stay with you.”

She opens her eyes, or maybe she doesn't, but there he is, grin on his face like he wasn't ripped apart by bullets all those time ago. _Are you dead?_ she wants to ask, but isn't able to open her mouth. It would have been a stupid question anyway.

“I bet you wish I aimed for your head back then.”

-

Sometimes, when they hurt her, she sees Oslo standing on the other side of the room. She wants to beg him to do it instead of _them_ because when he had beaten her she at least understood _why_ and was sure that he would stop before he did any real harm. With _them_ it's different, she knows _nothing_ about what they're going to do to her, and the uncertainty might be worse than everything she had to endure before. (It isn't.)

The best days are the ones on that she sees Moscow. He never speaks either, though, only smiles at her and shakes his head whenever she asks him to take her with him.

-

“I don't want to die,” she cries, “I don't, I don't. Please, I said everything I knew, they can't do that.”

Berlin laughs, and he shouldn't even be here, there isn't enough air and he'll breathe it away. “You said that once to me, as well, do you remember? _'I don't want to die.'_ Do you wish I did it back then? It would have at least been _dignified."_

"He'll come for me. He _promised_."

She doesn't know whether she said it out loud, but Berlin answers anyway, "No one will come for you. Why should they?"

-

Her relief lasts for exactly twenty minutes, this is until she spoke to the Professor and realized that she merely exchanged one prison for another. _You'll get us killed. Two days from now you all will be in a cell right next to mine._ She doesn't say it despite the anger boiling up in her. They look so happy, so self-assured, and they did this _for her_.

The worst thing is that she begins to _hope,_ that thoughts of being free again, of being without pain, are planted into her mind and start to grow, and she watches them, unable to stop it.

"You will all get out of there," the Professor says before she hangs up, but he gave such promise before and didn't keep them, did he?

-

Breaking up with Tokyo makes her feel the closes to _free_ she'll probably ever come to again. Rio didn't know she would do it until Tokyo stripped and sat down in the bathtub with her, and she couldn't even begin to care that there is a microphone _under her skin_ since the only thought on her mind was ' _She is going to leave me again._ ' And there is _another_ fucking heist going on, and most of the time she has to concentrate in order to make her body _do the_ _breathing,_ and when they'll be done cutting a bug out of her they'll give her a gun and she has to point it at those poor people who're just as scared as herself.

Deep down there is an ugly voice saying that she went through all of this shit because of Tokyo, that she would have never been so stupid to use a phone if Tokyo didn't leave her out of the blue, if she hadn't been so fucking _selfish._ It was Rio who had to pay the price, whom they've buried alive and beat and _hurt,_ while Tokyo was out there having a good time. She tries to ignore it, wants to be fair, is aware that she would regret it as soon as those words have left her mouth.

(A few hours later she nearly speaks them, though, when Tokyo stands in front of her, drunk and smirking, saying it has never been more than sex, that their relationship didn't mean _anything_. However, she only confirms what Rio had been afraid of all along.)

-

"Why are you here?" Rio mumbles, somewhere between being awake and dreaming, the arms around her body keeping her wonderfully grounded.

"What do you mean?" Stockholm asks, sounding like she had been asleep herself.

"In the Bank. Why are you risking everything?"

"We knew what they were doing to you and this was the only way to save you."

"This is not..." The guilt is suddenly so overwhelming that Rio's unable to speak. The tears are welling up again and she tries to concentrate on slowing down her breathing like Stockholm taught her to. Nairobi is dead and chances are high that the rest of them will follow her soon just because Rio had been reckless _,_ because she acted like a teen in love, too stupid to see the consequences to her actions. "You don't know me," is what she eventually gets out between gritted teeth.

"Of course I do," Stockholm objects and places a hand in Rio's hair, strokes her head like a mother who's calming down her child, "We're family. And now try to sleep a little."

-

The _Inspectora_ is part of their team now and while everything inside of Rio screams that it's wrong, that she _can't be_ _trusted,_ she tries to ignore it and have faith in the other's judgment since even _Tokyo_ is ready to work with the woman who nearly arrested them three years ago, and there has to be a reason for that. (Not that Tokyo has told Rio anything, she does her best to not even look at her and Rio is weirdly glad about it.)

She stays out of _Lisbon's_ way until the question that has been nagging on her for the last few months gets too distracting, and she seeks her out while she's on a short break.

"When you offered to get me out of this without me having to spend a day in prison, did you lie?"

Lisbon seems to think about it before she answers hesitantly, "No, I didn't. I think they would still have charged you with _something_ , but you wouldn't have been in for more than a few years."

"I would be out by now." It's a statement.

"Yes, probably." Rio nods and is about to go back to help with keeping watch over the hostages when Lisbon places a hand on her shoulder, "I'm glad you didn't."

"Yeah, me too." It's a lie.

-

Everything erupts into chaos and Rio doesn't even know what is going on most of the time, just does what she's told to do and suppresses the voices telling her she'll be back in the cell soon, that they'll bury her again and won't dig her out this time, leave her to suffocate and rot. However, she's not thinking about that, she's _not._

They do get out of the Bank in the end, with tons of gold and without losing someone else. The atmosphere is nearly festive when they meet with the Professor on a private plane, and Rio begins to shake so badly the moment she boards it that she doesn't even realize she's crying as well until she feels Denver's arms around her.

"We're safe, we're safe." She doesn't really hear him, there is only the rush of blood in her ears. After that they might have sedated her, she doesn't remember.

-

They stay together and will at least for a while, and it seems like a risk, but the Professor says it isn't. Rio weirdly trusts him, is thankful that they're not forced apart again because who is going to pair up with her now?

They arrived in the huge mansion that is their new home maybe three days ago (Rio doesn't have a clue where exactly they are, hasn't left the bedroom unless Denver or Stockholm forced her to, and the pills the Professor provided her with stop her from caring about it, anyway) when there is a knock on her door.

She doesn't answer it, it never stops them from entering, though. "I'm not hungry," she mumbles.

There are footsteps coming closer and when she looks up it's Tokyo who's standing next to her. "I'm so sorry," she whisper, "I'm so sorry, I should never have left you, it's all my fault."

It sounds like she's about to cry and this is what makes Rio sit up slowly, "It's not. I called you."

"Because I left." Tokyo is sinking down on tothe mattress and as her face comes closer Rio sees a tear rolling down her cheek, "I was so stupid. We were happy, everything was _perfect_ , and I threw it away for a few nights of drinking with strangers."

"I knew it would happen eventually,” Rio says evasively, isn't sure where this is leading to and would rather not find out.

Tokyo suddenly places her hands on Rio's face, and she feels the same pull she did when Tokyo touched her for the first time. "I thought you were dead, and then I found out they were torturing you," there is a sob escaping her lips, "You didn't deserve it. Not you. None of it. And then I treated you like _shit_ because I didn't get what I wanted after everything _they've done to you._ "

Rio doesn't know what to say, doesn't remember the last time she felt anger towards Tokyo, isn't sure if she feels anything at all in this moment.

"I love you so much, you're the best person I've ever met," she places a kiss onto Rio's forehead before she continues, "I know I don't deserve you and I won't ask you to take me back because you've got no reason to, but please be a part of my life."

"What is that supposed to mean?" It sounds indifferent, even to Rio's own ears.

"I don't want to run into you in ten years and see you with a wife and kids all of the sudden, I want to be _with you_ , even if it's just as a friend."

Rio nods, she doesn't know how this is supposed to be possible after everything that has happened, but she can't stand to see Tokyo (strong, independent Tokyo) cry a second longer. Rio pulls her into a hug an realizes that this is the closest they have been in three months. "Let us sleep, you can have some of my pills if you want to."

Tokyo laughs into her neck and says, "Yes, that would be nice."

-

Stockholm tells her it's time to get slowly but surely off the pills and Rio listens because there is something about Stockholm that makes you believe she knows what's best for you. Perhaps she really does since Rio begins to feel like she's able to _function_ again. The memories are still there (and the panic) but when it's too much there is always someone talking her out of it. (Once it had been Tokyo, however, when Rio came back to the here and now she saw the pain in Tokyo's eyes so she does her best to stay out of her way.)

One afternoon she lies down at the pool next to Palermo. He's the only person who's seems to do worse than she does and it's weirdly comforting. Taking a sip of his cocktail she says, "Your dead boyfriend once tried to kill me." She doesn't know why she tells him that, hasn't really thought about it ever since she came back to Spain.

"Wasn't my boyfriend," he grumbles and doesn't even open his eyes.

"Good for you."

"Yeah, because your girlfriend is a model of fucking perfection."

"Isn't my girlfriend, any more."

"Good for you," he grins and she feels herself smiling back.

"Want me to get us another round?"

"Sure, but put more of the vodka into it than last time, it sobered me instead of getting me drunk."

-

The Professor seeks her out and she's relieved since until now it seemed like he went out of her way, and she feared he was angry with her for not following his rules. Again. (The anger would be justified, she's aware of that, still, she has the weird urge to not be a disappointment to him.)

"I need to talk to you," he says and sinks down on the couch next to her, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"Okay," she answers slowly, nervousness replacing the relief she felt only a few seconds ago.

"During your time in the Bank, when I was forced to stay in the hideout in Madrid... Alicia Sierra found me there."

She feels her mind starting to rattle immediately; she didn't follow the news but she would have heard it if they've found _her_ _body._ So maybe he got rid of it. No, he wouldn't, not him. He wouldn't kill anyone, especially not a pregnant woman. But he couldn't... He... "What did you do?" she asks with a hoarse voice and a bad feeling slowly sinking in.

"She pointed a gun at me, she had all the access she needed to let the police into the Bank, I didn't have a choice," he takes a deep breath, "She offered me a deal. She wanted... I gave her money and provided her with a safe passage out of Spain."

Her hands are beginning to shake again, her chest tightens more and more as if she'll implode any second now, “How could you do that? After everything she did.”

"I didn't have a choice, Rio. She would have gotten all of you arrested and this was the only way to prevent it."

"She buried me alive, she made me stand in my own piss!" Her voice grows louder with every word and she sees how the Professor shrinks into himself.

"I know, and she deserves to be in prison for what she did to you, but-"

"Yes, she does! And you know what; I didn't deserve _anything_ that has happened to me! I was fine, happy even, until you came along and promised me 2.4 billions. You said it was safe, that your plan was perfect and now four people are dead and I..." she shakes her head and looks down at him and into his sad face, she doesn't even remember getting up. Right this second she wants to strangle him, go back in time and stop him from ever recruiting her, wants to fall down onto her knees and beg for forgiveness since it was _her_ who brought him back into this. "You should have killed her. There must have been a point when... she should be dead.”

“Rio,” he says, cautiously, and starts to get up as well, reaching for her. She just turns around and leaves.

-

After getting two bottles of the ridiculously expensive red wine Palermo bought (and said he wouldn't share with them, and did it no day later anyway), and stealing her medication out of Stockholm bedside table (which she unsuccessfully hid there so that it would be easier for Rio to stay away from them), she goes back to her own room and tries to drown _everything_ with it.

For a moment she debates just swallowing all the pills and be done with it, but no matter how miserable she feels and how much every breath hurts her, when she thinks about _dying_ she is back in that coffin, panting for air and more scared than she ever has been before, and she _knows_ she won't be able to put an end to it.

“ _We're both aware that you'll give in eventually, so why not be done with it now? Why don't you spare yourself all that pain?_ ” It's like Alicia is sitting right next to her, whispering into Rio's ear, and so she opens one of the bottles and gulps down the better part of it.

There is a knock on her door not much later, and it's once again Tokyo who's stepping in, hesitantly like she wants to be rather anywhere else but here. “The Professor said you weren't feeling too good?”

"Why did he told me?” Rio asks, “Why didn't he just keep it to himself? I felt _safe_ until he decided he _owed me the truth_ or some shit.”

“What did he tell you?” Tokyo asks while she sits down on the bed, as well, and when she doesn't get an answer she adds, “You _are_ safe.”

There are suddenly hands on Rio's face, wiping away tears she wasn't aware of shedding. “Make me forget,” she mumbles, “I _need_ you.”

She remembers the day Tokyo's mother died and it had been Tokyo who tried to forget by making Rio fuck her inside one of the Mint's public bathrooms until she started to cry and told her to stop. Tokyo does the same thing to her now, and Rio doesn't feel much through the tightness in her chest and her rapidly beating heart. At some point she stops crying, pulls Tokyo back up and lets herself be hold until she falls asleep.

-

“We're going to leave. Stockholm, Cincinnati and me. The Professor found us a nice house a few hours from here so that we can all still be in touch, but... we need some time to get back to the way we were.”

Rio nods, understands it, and bites her tongue in order to not beg him to stay. Denver begins to smile wearily and says, “We think you should get out of here, as well, you don't... Maybe it'll help you to get away from all of this. And we wanted to ask you if you'll come with us?” He looks nearly shy, like it's inappropriate to even suggest it.

She wants to laugh and to cry and does neither, only takes him into her arms and says, “Yes, I would love to.”

-

Later, Rio will say that she fell out of love like she had fallen into to: fast and absolutely. Of course, this isn't quite the truth, either.

When a handler comes to bring them to their new home Tokyo lets herself be hugged, and while there is an unmistakable glinting in her eyes, indicating the anger she feels, she kisses Rio's cheek and says, “We'll see us soon.”

It's only when they get into the jeep and the mansion slowly disappears in the rear-view mirror that Rio realizes that there won't be a coming back from this, that Tokyo won't be ready to forgive Rio for leaving, even thought it has been her who did it first only a few months ago. There is a finality in the thought that makes Rio's heart ache, but at the same time there is a smile tugging on her lips.

She gets better and worse, and then better again until she wakes up one morning and feels _content._ It's like a spell has been broken.

They visit the others a few weeks later and when she stands in front of the Professor he says, “Tokyo left."

“When?”

“A few days after you did. She said she will be in contact.”

For moment she wonders why he didn't deem it necessary to tell her sooner, then it dawns on her, “She asked you to not to say anything.”

There is a small nod and a look of guilt in his eyes and she doesn't even blame him. She goes into Tokyo's room, finds it exactly like she remembers it, sits down on the bed and starts to cry. Everything hurts with how much she misses her and at the same time she's so fucking glad she doesn't have to see her, to not be reminded, again, of what she has _lost._

Tokyo's last words to her echo through her mind and now they feel somehow like a promise. For the first time, while sitting there in this stuffed and yet empty room, Rio doesn't regret that she went with the Professor when a offered her what then sounded like an exciting adventure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, I never cared about Rio and this is the thrid one shot I've written about that character.


End file.
